


Howls and Knives

by MangoBait



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, F/M, Fantasy, Fighting, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sarcasm, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6524017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoBait/pseuds/MangoBait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riwyn is sent from Clan Lavellan to spy on the Conclave. What was supposed to be a short-lived mission quickly turns into a world conflict when the Breach appears, a Fade crafted hole in the sky, and with it, an 'Anchor' threaded into the palm of her hand. Riwyn has to battle her instinct to return to her Clan, and sister, and her duty to fight. </p><p>Mostly a collection of short fics. Though there is a plot that ties them all together, I won't be covering the entire game. Much like my other fics, I don't see a point in rehashing what you could play (it's hella boring). So, instead, I opt for adding creative pieces in between. Hope you like!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unkeepable Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that begins it all. Riwyn leaves the comforts of her Clan and ventures out into Thedas.

“She’s wrong!” the elf hissed, stubbornly kicking a rounded grey stone down the path, the pebble bouncing off the worn ground before landing in the creak below her. “Lasa ghilan, she could have chosen any one. Any. One. And she chose me? Me?!” Her head shook, eyes rolling with little humor behind the action.

She took a steadying breath in through her nose, allowing the air to fill her lungs before she slowly exhaled it out through full, pursed lips. Her hands remained clenched into tightly bound fists at her sides, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her weathered palms.

This wasn’t her battle, this wasn’t her fight, her war. She had suffered enough at the hands of those around her. Why was she being forced into this again?

Her desire to leave her Clan was slim to nonexistent.

The woods Clan Lavellan had called home for the past fortnight were comforting, familiar. Nestled amidst the Coastlands, just along the Waking Sea, they had all become inured to the sound of waves crashing against the shore, of the cry of seagulls. It was not customary to find refuge in such parts but, seeing as the how the War raged the lands of the Free Marches, they had little option but then to travel south into Ferelden.

Ah, yes, the War… The perpetrator behind everything. Kirkwall wasn’t where the conflict started… but it certainly did nothing to slow down the ever inevitable doom. Mages and Templars, at each other’s throats – literally. It started a three years ago; Knight-Commander Merideth and Grand Enchanter Orisono had done what they could to stall the threat but even they were powerless to the disaster that landed at their doorsteps. The ‘Champion’, a woman shem who went by the name of Hawke, also had her hands in the mess – Lavellan’s sister Clan, Sabrae, had dealings with this human. They vouched for her. But even she and all of her companions were worthless against the onslaught.

When the chaos started, both clans fled for the safety of the tree line, for the waters that would take them away while they still had a chance. Clan Sabrae had moved further west. They still had close contacts with them though their messages were becoming fewer and further between. Seems the battles were moving into Ferelden as well.

In the distance she could hear a bout of laughter sparking up through the trees, followed by a quick reproach from an angered mother. They were not far from the aravels though just far enough that they would be out of earshot from the Keeper…

“Keeper Deshanna would not pick you if she didn’t think you could do it, Riwyn,” Ahsrill chided, her fingers idly picking at the hem of her tunic, white golden hair cascading around her shoulder in gentle waves, piercing blue eyes focused on her task. “You’ll be back before you know it.”

Riwyn slid a hand over her forehead, liquid jade eyes flashing with annoyance. “She’s sending me into a pit of vipers. Why would I give the faintest care for what happened between the mages and the Templars? Fenedhis!“ Besides having very little opinion on the outcome of the two groups, there was another reason Riwyn did not wish to go. Being away from her younger sister, the mere thought of it made her heart squeeze uncomfortably, the ache already settling in for the long run.

They had grown up in Denerim together, in the alienage there. Their parents worked diligently to put food on the table, but it was never enough and eventually the sisters had gone to work as servants for the Lords and Ladies in nobility. It wasn’t ideal… the punishments they would receive for stepping a pinky toe out of line were severe but she couldn’t truly complain. There were those who had it worse. At least she had her family.

Until one day, the day it all fell apart.

Leaving her sister after all of that? Not high on her priority list.

Ah, and then there was the sneaking bit. Last Riwyn checked, two-handed warriors weren’t exactly adept at the rogue-ish, thiefy, ‘cloaks and daggers’ skillset.

Ashrill glanced up at her sister, bouncing up from the red oak stump that served as her seat. Placing her hands firmly on Riwyn’s slender shoulders she encouraged, “Everything will be alright. Go to this Conclave, poke your nose around a moment, get a grasp of the situation, and come home. You won’t even have to deal with the shems or mages or anyone. Stick to the shadows. Like we did in Denerim.” Out of sight, out of mind. They learned young that if you acted unassuming, everyone else would believe it as so.

Riwyn offered a lop-sided grin. In her gut, she feared that this would not be that type of trip – the kind that one returns from swiftly.

No... her instincts told her she would be gone for much longer than they assumed. This wasn’t a War that could be solved with petty talks and signed parchment. The road ahead would be enduring, twisting and winding. If it even had an end, Riwyn knew it would be a challenging one to find.

“Promise me,” her sister began as her elder sibling began to grab the pack that rested at their feet. The pack was loaded down with a shem based armor – a green garb with iron shoulders and a pair of breeches she was certain would scratch – a few days’ worth of rations, a bedroll, a canteen filled with water, and a cloak for good measure. Riwyn always despised the cold. “Promise me, you will be home by the night I fall asleep for the fourth time without you.” Her eyes so hopeful, so filled with an innocence that Riwyn treasured above all else.

Hefting the sack onto her back, Riwyn replied in kind, “I promise.”

“Ghilan’nian guide you, Riwyn. May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent. Dareth shiral,” Ashrill whispered. Riwyn could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. _Be brave, sister._

After a quick embrace she faced South, Clan Lavellan behind her and an unknown future ahead. _I promise to be home, I promise to come home to you, Ashrill. A few days’ time and I will be home._

_Go to the Conclave, poke your nose around a moment, get a grasp leave… Conclave, a moment, grasp, leave…_

How difficult could that be?

**-oOo-**

The waves of Lake Calenhad beat against the coastline, careening into the sand and rock that adorned it. Ever so casually, the golden rays of the sun dwindled, casting elongated shadows across the expanse of verdant grass and trees. A soft breeze tickled her skin, tugging at her braided white locks of hair, loose strands batting playfully at her high cheek bones and pointed jaw.

The Mages Tower, long abandoned, stood before her, peeking out across the lake. The ferry that would once take passengers to and from its pearly gate was guard-less, no post for a man to hold. The only building that still remained was a tavern and even it was quiet save for the owner and the few who dare travel during such times. Riwyn considered herself unlucky enough to fall into the second category. Still, she had no choice… The next village was easily a half day’s journey away. It was either take a chance at the shady tavern or take an even bigger dare on her own in the woods.

Survivability was higher if she stuck to the tavern.

She tentatively took to the steps that led up into The Spoiled Princess, hand raising to push open the door as she made her way into the building. It creaked on its hinges but complied, allowing her passage. A bard ticked away on a lute in the corner, his voice spilling out across the small foyer. The few patrons that were in attendance were stooped over their ale, frowns plastered firmly on their faces. The air smelled heavily of piss and beer, of dirty deeds, and silken lies.

_Lovely…_

With her hood raised, Riwyn headed for the bar. A shem peered up at her from under thick, bushy brows. He reeked of bread yeast and sweat… and dog, much like everything else in Ferelden.

“Room for one?” she requested, rubbing her right hand nervously over her left arm, attention flicking between the bard, the innkeeper, and the door. She felt enclosed, trapped, a prisoner to the tavern. She couldn’t see the stars twinkling above her head or smell the earth in the air. No… instead, she was in a smelly inn surrounded by shems who would rather see her mopping the floors than serving her as an equal guest.

“Two gold,” he grunted in response, gaze hardening.

Two gold? She dug in the deep lavender pouch that hung on her hip, fingers grasping at the twenty silvers she had to her name. “Any chance we could discuss the price?”

“No. Two gold or no room.”

“Could I-“

“No.”

Her heart sunk, a pit formed in her stomach. “Can I have a glass of water, at least.”

The man grunted once more, moving to retrieve a mug from below the counter. “Not often we get visitors in these parts. Where you headed?”

She bit her bottom lip, clasping and unclasping her hands. “West.”

“Not very specific.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

He passed her the cup, water spilling across the wooden counter top before it came to a stop before her. “I don’t want any trouble. Had ‘nough of it lately with the War going on.”

“I don’t intend on giving you trouble, sir.”

“Good. Three silver for the water.”

She bobbed her head in thanks, paying her dues before retreating for a chair near the door.

However, before she could arrive, said door flew open, banging haphazardly against the wall and sending several glass bobbles shattering to the floor.

“Everyone stand still!” a man in glistening armor stood before them, sword and shield at the ready, glare tense and threatening. “I have reason to believe there is a Mage here. I have been sworn with the duty of hunting the fiend down!”

The barkeep cleared his throat from his position. “We are a safe area. Lower your weapon!”

Hot adrenaline poured into Riwyn’s veins as she took a startled step backwards, back brushing against the wall, muscles taut. _Mage? Where?_

The Templar’s steely eyes focused on the man at the bar. “I apologize for the inconvenience but I humbly refuse. This mage is responsible for the death of countless of my men. I will not stand by and allow such atrocities to occur.”

The patrons that once sat so emotionless were now aghast, mouths hanging open in surprise. Their mumbles rumbled out across the tavern. “Who?” “Which one of you is it?” “Is it you?” Their voices rose in pitch and volume, some lashing out with insults and sneers.

Riwyn slid along the wall, pausing only long enough to rest her mug at an empty table. Don’t get involved, Keeper Deshanna had told her. If a fight should come about, flee.

“Everyone calm down!” the Templar commanded but his words fell on insolent ears.

The bard in the corner stirred, body rigid, hands still on his lute. His lips moved though inaudible, his gaze locked with Riwyn’s.

 _He’s the Mage_ , her gut screamed. _He’s the one._

And he knew she knew.

Before she was able to react, the Mage dove into action. Abandoning his instrument, he snatched at a wooden stave that had been resting beside him. With it in hand, he lowered himself into an offensive stance, Sparks splattered out from the tip of the staff, red flames licking the air with their fiery caress.

And there she stood, frozen with fear, legs below her trembling with fright. Her hands splayed against the wall behind her, her spine digging into panels as if she could meld into them, become invisible.

Become less of a target

Even as an orb of fire began to form, even as it was hurtled towards her, she remained paralyze. Her brain begged her to duck, her mind pleaded her to move, to dodge, to do anything but stand there like a statue… but her body did not comply.

She gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut as the orb of light lurched towards her, braced for impact…

“Watch out!”

The blow never came.

When she pried her jade eyes apart, the Templar had moved to stand before her, steel shield raised to block the flames. Fire kissed the planks that made up the flooring, scorching them and pillowing the air with smoke.

“Get out of here!” the Templar demanded the elf, cocking his head towards the window to her left.

By now the patrons had made their way for the door and were clawing at each other, madly attempting to make their escape. But with such unorganized chaos, their attempts were futile and they only managed to pile themselves up.

Riwyn stole a glance back at the Templar, watched as he advanced on the Mage. Her heart stammered out an unsteady beat, pounded in her ears so loudly she worried that the whole tavern could hear it. Her breaths came in rapid gasps thrust through parted lips, a cool sweat prickling along the nape of her neck.

The Templar’s attacks were quick, calculated, agile. His sword sang through the air, candle light glinting off of the metal as it curved towards its target. The Mage raised his staff to parry the blow, lighting crackling out from his fingertips, weaving through the armor the Templar wore. He gritted his teeth against the pain that wracked through his very core, growling as he pushed his foe backwards with all of his strength.

“I will set this whole place ablaze!” the Mage threatened, fire dancing in his irises.

“You wouldn’t dare, not with so many innocents!”

“Just try me!” he warned, voice laced with venom, malice, and pure hatred.

_Time to go._

Riwyn spun towards the window, finger nails digging along the frame and coaxing the glass up. Panic made her actions erratic, uncontrolled. Her hands shook, her mind reeled. The heat of battle continued behind her, the warmth of flames could be felt along her back. The whole tavern would be set alight… she needed to move.

Metal biting against wood, the stave pounding on the shield, angered shouts, shouted spells..

She had to focus, had to concentrate. Escape, survive. Live.

The window groaned but obeyed, opening up to the world beyond the Spoiled Princess. The cool breeze from the night air eased her worries by a fraction, steadying her resolve.

Hoisting herself up onto the window still, she twisted around until her back was facing the outside, Reaching up she clasped the top of the frame, pulling herself up enough to slide her feet out before dropping down onto the dirt and grass below.

Already flames began to flicker from where the Mage stood, engulfing the small platform that had once served as his stage.

She could hear commotion by the entrance, patrons and barkeep scrambling out of the door and towards the shoreline. Smoke billowed out from chimney, crept towards the window and door.

Her jade gaze fell back upon the Templar. The sword on her back felt heavier, weighing her down. She should help, she should do something.

_Don’t get involved._

But the man couldn’t do this on his own… he was weak compared to the power of the Mage.

_If a fight should come about, flee._

Her hand rested on the hilt, readying herself to unsheathe the weapon, to join in the battle…

_Promise, promise you’ll come back._

It dropped to her flank.

_I can’t… I can’t do it. I’m nothing, I wouldn’t be able to help._

With a heart burdened with guilt, she turned her back to the tavern, to the Templar…

And she ran.

**-oOo-**

Riwyn only stopped when her lungs begged for relief, when her throat ached with hoarseness, when she felt as if she could no longer breathe.

She stooped over, hands on her knees, and sucked in greedy gulps of air. Sweat drenched her face and back, hair stuck to her skin along her neck and brow. She ran the back of her hand along her forehead, eyes blinking several times to clear her vision.

The scent of the tavern burning had dissipated some time ago but she could still hear the screams of the Templar as his flesh blistered and charred. The pit in her stomach grew. _I left him, I abandoned him._

“He’s just a shem,” she spoke to no one save her own conscious, trying to convince herself.

_You don’t expect me to swallow that bull shit, do you?_

“I didn’t have a choice,” her voice sounded pitiful, even to her own pointed ears.

_Just keep telling yourself that._

Her hand rose, fingers curling around the amulet that lay along her collar bone. A silver medallion, a lone antler with a bright sapphire gem at the base of the horn. “I did it for Ashrill. I did it so I would survive.”

She was no match for the Mage… he would have slaughtered as easily as the Templar. Against animals and beasts, she excelled. Her years of hunting and gathering had made her a proficient killer… those who possessed magic were another matter entirely. They possessed knowledge and abilities she couldn’t even begin to fathom or understand.

Her mind flashed back to the Tevinter mages that had overtaken Denerim, of the fires that consumed the small huts they called home, of ice that froze her friends and loved ones, of their sickening twisted sneers as they dragged them away in chains.

No… she was completely and utterly useless against such forces.

Riwyn scanned her surroundings. Night had fallen, the forest dark and ominous. This territory was mysterious, unfamiliar. She had to be on her toes, couldn’t be caught unaware.

She stifled a yawn, eye lids heavy with exhaustion.

But she also needed to sleep.

“I’ll sleep up there,” she whispered to herself, focus zeroing in on a sturdy willow branch above her head.

Starting at the base of the trunk, she lurched upwards, hands coiling around one of the lower branches to drag herself up onto. From there it was only a matter of seconds until she was high off the ground, hidden by the long tendrils of willow leaves.

She pulled a length of rope from her pack, securing herself to the trunk of the willow, tying a knot at her stomach to keep her in place. “Least I won’t fall in the middle of the night.”

With one last glance around, she folded her hands in her lap and leaned her head against the bark.

Tomorrow she would make her trek to Haven. Tomorrow she would witness the Conclave. Tomorrow she would gain enough information to return home. Two days from tomorrow she would be with Ashrill once more, with her Clan again.

Perhaps if she said it enough times, she could convince herself.

She doubted she would ever be so lucky.


	2. Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riwyn attends the Conclave.

Riwyn was certain she had reached a new level of frozen. Her night had been spent crawling through feet of snow, blizzard winds biting at her skin, snowflakes coating her hair and clothing in a dampness that sunk through to her bones. Powdered icicles clung to the tips of her white blonde hair, full lips slowly darkening to a blue tint as the hours wore on.

There was one positive note, however. Evening was fading fast, the forest behind her growing brighter by the minute, drenching the willows and oaks in the scarlet of the rising sun, hues of light purple streaming across the sky of Thedas. Soon the sun would warm her… she simply had to wait.

The Temple of Andraste before her was bustling with noise, mages and Templars making camp on opposing sides of the entrance. The Temple walls were made of carefully laid stone, painted glass covering the windows, and inviting fires roared inside giving the structure a warmth she so desperately craved.

Riwyn rubbed numbing fingers over her shivering arms, the green tunic and greying scarf not quite enough to keep out the arguably glacial temperatures of the mountains. The Free Marches were not specifically a tropical region by any stretch of the imagination, but it was at the very least _warm_. From her huddled position among the berry bushes and elfroot plants she was convinced that anyone walking past would discover her – her chattering teeth and frosted breath blatant indicators of her location. For the first time during her little adventure was she thankful for the shem boots that clothed her feet, the fur and leather the only form of heat she had.

Both parties would soon move inside; the bits and pieces of conversation she could pick up from passing soldiers told her as much. She could not be patient enough, desiring nothing more than to be within the confines of the Temple.

A gnarled branch rested beside her, half buried in the snow. She may not be fond of mages but today she was to act as one… It was her only way to get into the Temple without drawing attention to herself.

Exhaling into her cupped hands, rubbing the stiffness out of her knuckle, Riwyn stood. She grasped the hem of the scarf, hefting the material over the crown of her head, creating a makeshift hood. With her ‘staff’ in hand, she moved towards a cluster of mages as they began to pack their meager belongings.

Being so close to them was… troubling. Her flesh felt the tingling of magic in the air, the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up, goosebumps littered her skin. Riwyn was certain arcana had good purposes though she never could bring herself to trust it. Even her Keeper’s healing magic made her weary. To be surrounded by so many rebel mages; a chill fled up her spine, the impulse having nothing to do with the bitter cold.

Her mind flashed back to her childhood for the briefest of moments. No… No she dare not tread through those memories. Some things were better left forgotten. She didn’t need that pain right now.

The elf edged her way into the back of a small group. _Focus on the task at hand._ _All I have to do is witness the events, then I can leave. Simple. In and out._ Riwyn let out a slow sigh causing the snowflakes in front of her to swirl out of pattern.

She caught the tail end of their conversation as she closed in, “-end poorly. They won’t let us go free. They fear us too much.” A woman spoke, elderly in age. Her gray hair poked out around the cloak she wore, sunken wrinkled eyes sparkling in the pyres. She wore the mark of a Mage, a colored tattoo etching its way across her aged, pale skin. Her gaze was centered on the Temple of Andraste, uncertainty written on her face.

A younger girl, younger than Riwyn by at least three years replied, “But what choice do we have? We have to try. Nothing will happen if we do nothing.”

“True enough… but… at least, when we were doing nothing, there was peace.”

A man bit in, voice laced with a haughty temper, “Peace? You call being imprisoned inside the bloody Tower, peace? We were slaves to their demands, forced to do the Chantry’s bidding. That ends today.”

The elderly woman shook her head sadly. “You misunderstand how the world works, young man. Not everything can be solved. We may have been trapped at the Circle but we had food, beds, warmth, and clothes to cover our backs. Now, what do we have?”

“More than we had there. You’re just too blinded by tradition to see it.”

“That is where you are wrong. But, let us not dwell on things that can’t be altered. Come, it is time to head in.”

Dipping her head low, Riwyn followed the mages through the grand doors of the Temple. Heat from the flames enveloped her aching limbs, warming her enough that her trembling slowed. Hushed voices filled the cathedral’s high ceilings. Chandeliers hung high above glittering with jewels, flickering candles casting golden light around the hall. Pews rested upon either side of a lengthy walkway that headed towards the center of the chapel. It was there that two individuals stood – she assumed they were spokespersons for the mage rebellion and the Templars.

“Everyone take your seats. The discussion will begin once all parties have arrived,” droned a Priest near the front.

Riwyn began to take a step forward but…

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She tilted her head in the slightest, jade eyes attempting to focus on stirring shapes near the end of the hall to her right. No one else appeared to notice, mages and Templars alike already taking their seats and preparing themselves for the debates to come.

Riwyn glanced forward. Only a fourth of the benches were filled, certainly she would have time to duck away for a moment to investigate. Her scrutiny flicked back to the corridor. From this distance she could not quite make out who the figures were but they were certainly people. One dressed in robes, the other in armor though she could not decipher if there were any telling marks indicating whether they were of the chantry.

Suddenly a flash of light flickered, sun glinting off a dagger – a blade catching the light at just the right angle. A struggle? The figures moved rapidly now, the armored individuals grasping the cloaked one, pulling their hostage out of sight down an adjacent hall.

Moving quickly but discreetly she wedged herself out of the group she had been nestled in, dipping down the side passage. She dropped lower to the floor, keeping to the shadows that the candles provided, her booted feet barely kissing the stone as she skirted away from the voices behind her. As she snuck further down the hallway, the sound of muffled screams reached her pointed ears, something being dragged across the marbled floors, doors moaning open.

At the corner, Riwyn pressed her back to the wall, rotating only enough to peek around the bend. From her current position she watched as the armored soldiers dove into a side room clearly struggling with their captive.

“Keep the sacrifice still!”

The voice came from within the room, authoritative and malicious, cruel, belonging to someone of great power. She could not shake the feeling that the person who held it was evil beyond her comprehension. The way he spat the word ‘sacrifice’ was indication enough.

She was torn… torn between acting and slinking away with her tail between her legs. Between doing what she knew was right, and surviving.

Just like at the tavern.

To intervene? Or not?

Her hands clenched at her sides. No… she couldn’t just standby as another person was harmed at the hands of a mage. She did nothing when the mages attacked her alienage, she did nothing for the Templar who saved her life…

Now was the time to act.

Darting headfirst down the hall, she picked up speed. Using her shoulder as a battering ram, she slammed the doors wide open. “What’s going on here?” she shouted, startling the armored soldiers. Her eyes were wild, searching for something, _anything_ that she could use as a weapon. An orb rolled towards her feet – it wasn’t a sword but it would do.

She extended a hand towards the sphere, fingers closing around the strange stone surface…

A maddened shriek filled her ears, shook the foundation, caused the room to billow and buckle. “NO!” it roared. Pain exploded in her hand, encompassing her skin, bone, and muscles in a fiery blaze, lacing up her arm through her veins. White light flashed before her, rendering her blind. It felt as if the floor disappeared from below her, plummeting her into an unknown abyss.

Falling, helpless, useless. Wind whistling past her, stealing her breath, hair whipping violently.

Then nothing.

**-oOo-**

She landed hard, too hard… jarring pain, a shockwave of agony starting at her toes and launching upwards over her body. Her palms splayed out across the rough surface, soft flesh digging into the sharp-edged pebbles. Her head swam, her vision blurred, darkened around the perimeter. Everything felt _wrong_. Wrong in a way she couldn’t describe.

Her left hand sizzled with energy, crackled with life, a force unknown.

_What happened?_

_Where am I?_

Riwyn blinked, a cough working its way up her throat. From her position all she could make out was a fuzzy green sky swirling above her. Fragments of land seemed to float in the air, twirling without a care for gravity or weight.

_This isn’t possible. This can’t be possible._

She stood, legs threatening to give out but managing to hold her as she found her balance. Stairs stretched upwards ahead, leading… _somewhere_.

Only one thing was certain: she wasn’t in the Temple any more.

But where was here?

The sound of ticking caught her attention, as if little tiny claws were clicking along the stonework. A chill fled up her spine, her mind screaming at her to run, to flee. She turned, painstakingly slow and peered over her shoulder.

And stifled a cry of terror.

Creatures… Creatures bred from a nightmare were racing across the landscape. Their eyes countless and beady focused on their prey – _her_. They were like spiders, spiders mixed with demons and born anew in some sick contorted, grotesque form. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounded out an unsteady rhythm, one that she was certain would be the death of her.

She lurched towards the stairs, scrambling up them as the creatures scurried after all. She hissed in a taut breath as the rubble bit into her skin, scrapped at her knees and hands. The pain in her left palm almost forgotten as fear took over, sent her conscious into a frenzy of confused thoughts.

Run, that’s all she knew.

A light erupted into existence at the landing, a figure stepping out through the curtain of brilliance, hand outstretched towards the elf.

“Get to me, little Halla,” her voice cooed, urging her onwards. “Run!”

They were getting closer, their tiny pinchers snapping out for her ankles as she jolted up the next step, not daring to look back. But she could _feel_ them, feel as they groped at her boots, tore at the fabric on her slacks.

“Keep going!”

Riwyn climbed the final step, reaching out for the woman clad in white.

Just as their fingertips touched…

The world crumbled around her once more and swallowed her whole.

And this time, it didn’t relinquish her.

**-oOo-**

_Cold ground, burning, aching, searing white hot agony traced up her arm, hand smoldering, flesh set ablaze. Darkness._

**-oOo-**

_Flashes of green, eye lids flicker, lips mouth words that none can hear, a cry of anguish. Vallaslin glowing, flickering emerald, Ghilan'nain, Mother of the Halla. Cool gentle hands hold her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks, a welcomed gesture for it banishes the heat if only for mere seconds. Words filter into her conscious, permeating her mind if for the briefest of moments, “Ir abelas.” The pain begins anew. She gladly welcomes unconsciousness._

**-oOo-**

_Sparks of vision. Cell bars, stone floors. Candlelight dancing in sconces upon walls. Sound of someone panting through clenched teeth. Heavy weight on wrists. Shackles? Prisoner. To who? Frantic thoughts, no strength. Weak. Tired. Pain is gone. Thank Mythal. Blissful slumber._

**-oOo-**

Hushed whispers awaken her, eyes remained closed.

“Who is she?”

“Dalish?”

“One of the People?”

“How did she do it? How did she cause the Tear in the sky? Is she even the cause?”

Names she did not understand. Voices unfamiliar and muffled, as if they spoke through cloth.

“Running out of the time.”

“The Breach continues to grow.”

“You are on thin ice, apostate.” The word spoken with such disgust.

The cool fingers returned, stroking a pattern on the palm of her hand, soothing the tender burn once more. “Soon, Seeker,” a male voice speaks, closer to her than the rest, “She needs rest. Wake her later.” A disgruntled exhale, a scoff of impatience. Footsteps walking away, the moan of a door closing shut. A heavy sigh near her, breathed through tight lips. He spoke in words she did not understand. She was too exhausted to attempt to…

**-oOo-**

Reality was lazy to form but when it did, the elf almost wished it had stayed away.

Every muscle in her body ached, her mind was heavy. She was exhausted beyond measure. Never before had she felt so used, so dry of energy. Her throat was parched, stomach tight with hunger. Though she knew she must have been unconscious for hours at the least, she felt as if she had not slept in weeks.

“Tell the Seeker she has awaken.”

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and scanned her prison. She lingered behind no cage door save the one that sat before her. Weighted shackled remained enclosed around her wrists, disallowing her the freedom she pined for. Four guards were posted around her, swords at the ready as if she were physically able to pose any threat. Occasionally they would glance at one another before returning their vigilant gaze back to her… back to her hand.

Now that she was conscious, mind clear, she realized the full threat of the situation she was in. Who her captors were, she hadn’t the faintest idea. She was also at a loss as to which day it was, how much time had passed, or even if it was morning or evening. One thing was blatantly certain, however: she needed to return to Clan Lavellan.

Something had gone wrong at the Temple of Andraste.

And something even more wrong had happened to her.

Her left hand burst to life, green energy surging though her palm, pulsing up her wrist. Each time the mark grew further, threatening to consume more of her skin with each impact. Her inhale was sharp, eye lids fluttering as blackness played at the corners of her vision. “Stay awake,” she warned herself in a pained murmur. She needed answers, she could sleep no longer.

As the mark began to fade, the door in front of her slammed open, banging aggressively against the wall before swinging partially closed once more. Two figures entered – one clothed in armor and the other in robes, the crest of Andraste clearly evident on both.

The robed one came to a halt directly before her, the armored one circling around. Her footsteps were heavy, measured, precise. She paused behind Riwyn, leaning over and snarling in her ear, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” She moved once more, to the left, hands crossed behind her back, eyes dark and severe, piercing through Riwyn as if reaching for her very soul. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended it is _dead_.” The woman stopped once more beside the robed one, pointing an accused finger at the elf. “Everyone, that is, except you.”

Riwyn understood. She was being accused. They thought she was the cause of the destruction, the madness. They had pinned her the culprit long before this interrogation and were now simply looking for nothing more than a confession. One Riwyn could not give.

Reaching back through her memories… left her blank. She remembered arriving at the Temple, going in… but everything after that? A blur.

Her jaw tightened, held tilted up in the slightest. Fine, let the shems blame the elf, as they have always done. They would get nothing from her.

The woman, the Seeker, snatched Riwyn’s arm, dragging her hand into the air and giving it a hardened shake, “Explain this!” As if in response, her palm emitted the faint green spark once more, a mild throb beginning again. There was a malice in her eyes now. If Riwyn did not speak, she feared the punishment that would ensue. The guards around her tightened their grip on their blades, readying themselves. Riwyn knew she would not survive if they were to attack in force.

“I can’t!” she bit out in reply. She was no mage, she held no recollection of the events. She was at a loss as to her own whereabouts, let alone the damned curse laid upon her hand.

“What do you mean you _can’t_?” the Lady Seeker spat the words back at her.

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there,” Riwyn insisted.

The Seeker thrust forward, gloved fingers curling into her tunic, digging into her shoulders. “You’re lying!” Riwyn’s eyes widened, face paling.

The robed one stepped forward, a hand on the woman’s arm to pull her away. “We need her, Cassandra!” She then turned to Riwyn, her expression calmer than that of the Seeker though Riwyn’s gut told her that this woman too held a dark side, one more vicious than her partner’s. “Do you remember what happened? Before this began.”

Her instant reaction was to shake her head, to deny it. But no, if she wanted to clear her name… she needed to remember. Riwyn inhaled slowly, trailing backwards in time once more. She could recall the man who had sat beside her in voice alone, the agony she had been in… But… before that… Swirling mists… “I… I remember running… _things_ chasing me, and then… a woman?”

“A woman?”

“She reached out to me… but then…” Her voice trailed off. Then… then the memory faded. As if someone had come along and snipped out the pieces she was searching for.

The woman named Cassandra turned to her companion. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana, I will take her to the Rift.” Then she focused on Riwyn. Crouching down before the elf she began to undo Riwyn’s bindings.

“What _did_ happen?” Riwyn hedged, wanting to get a grasp on the situation.

Cassandra pulled her up onto her feet. “It would be better to show you.”

With that she was led to the door and into a changed Thedas.


	3. Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riwyn gets a surprise guest when she is reading a letter from her sister.

It all happened so fast.

One moment she was a prisoner, a rat, a parasite, believed to have torn a hole in the sky, causer of the Breach… and the next? Herald of Andraste, hero, champion who slowed the corruption and saved all of Haven. Her hand pulsed with green energy, the throbbing rarely subsided but she was thankful for the lack of fiery pain that used to accompany it. The Inquisition had begun, the quest to close the tear to the heavens…

And Riwyn was forcibly dragged along with it. She may no longer wear the shackles, but she was still held captive by another means.

A sunburst flag ruffled in the harsh blizzard gust, soldiers shouted, the clang of metal swords beat on shields, music from the tavern, the man named Cullen barked quick orders as he trained his troops, the blacksmith hammered away at rusted armor…. Unfamiliar sounds. She could not sleep at night, her dreams restless. Her waking hours were filled with the voices of Cassandra and Leliana as they constructed their next move. Apparently said move was in the Hinterlands, speaking with a Mother who supposedly was on their side… whatever side _that_ was, Riwyn was not certain.

She didn’t want any of this. She didn’t _ask_ for any of this. All she truthfully wanted was to go home.

Her jade eyes flicked down to the parchment she clutched between frozen finger tips, the faint hazy green glow from the Breach illuminating the scripture:

_‘They say you are not their hostage, you are willingly staying with them. Is that true? Aren’t you going to come home? The Clan misses you, I miss you. When can you come back? Surely this Inquisition will be fine without you there. Tell the shem to handle their own problems. Please. With our parents gone… I can’t afford to lose you too. I want you safe. With me. Here._

_With love, Ashrill’_

The letter smelled like home even after the distance it must have traveled – of pine needles and sap, of honeysuckle and spice. _Oh Ashrill, if only it would be that easy._

Though Riwyn wanted little to do with Haven or the Inquisition, she was the only one who could manipulate the hole in the sky. Her hand, or more importantly the mark that now rested within her skin, was the key to closing it. Or, at least, that’s what she could understand from what Solas had explained to her. Even he was working off of mere assumptions though.

Still, if she did nothing and returned home as her sister requested, the Breach would likely continue to spread. Eventually it would reach the Free Marches, eventually it would reach Clan Lavellan. Riwyn had a sinking feeling this was something she could not run from, no matter how hard she tried. No, she must stay and finish her work here. She had a goal – close the Breach once and for all, and leave. Simple. That’s what she kept telling herself, hopefully one day it would become true.

Riwyn let out a slow exhale, her breath misting the air in front of her, snowflakes dancing. Wisps of blonde streaked hair tickled her cheeks, breaking loose from the braid that slumped over her shoulder, freeing themselves from the woolen hood she wore to keep the chill at bay. She sat far from the little huts and tents, her back rested against the trunk of a great willow tree, its branches providing some protection from the biting winds.

“Light reading?”

With a stifled gasp, Riwyn’s head ripped to the side, eyes wide, full lips parted in the slightest as surprise colored her features, legs breaking out from under her and driving her into an upright defensive position. Instinctually she had pressed her sister’s note against her chest, fingers splayed out over the parchment.

“Apologies, I hardly thought I would startle you,” Solas replied when Riwyn did not immediately speak. Foolish, she had been so lost in thought she did not hear the elven apostate approach. He tilted his head to the side, peering down at her. “I have the distinct impression that you do not welcome my presence.”

“Not… _quite_ … how I would phrase it,” Riwyn answered, snapping her mouth shut, expression guarded, posture stone still.

“How, then, would you put it?” he pressed, arms folded behind his back.

“I don’t _trust_ you,” blunt, to the point. How could she ever trust a mage? They held so much power, so much influence… with a flick of his thin wrist, she could be reduced to a pile of smoldering ash. Though she knew he was here to aid the cause, she couldn’t relinquish her longstanding fears. Not when the consequences for doing so could be so dire.

“That is fair. I have given you little motive to trust me. Believe me when I say that I have no intentions of harming you or anyone here.” Though he appeared genuine, she couldn’t relax, her muscles taut and tense.

“Then why are you here?” As an apostate, Riwyn had been shocked when she heard the elf held any interest in remaining with the Inquisition. She assumed he would have joined the other rebels or, at the very minimum, departed entirely.

“Is it truly so difficult to consider that I have the same goal as you? The Breach is a threat to all of Thedas.” She had considered that. Perhaps his reasoning was not far from her own. He certainly had enough interest in the subject matter to stay for that alone. “With my connection to the Fade, I can offer assistance you may not otherwise find.”

“Right, because you dream in the Fade.” Internally she cringed at the thought, barely keeping the disgust from her tone in the process. Why anyone would want to do that, she couldn’t fathom. Mages with powers were too unknown as it was, adding the Fade into it only made matters worse. Communicating to demons and spirits, _whatever_ … It made her skin crawl.

Solas’ tone hardened, “That is correct.” He knew where she stood on magic, her adamant hatred of it.

The trees groaned as another blast of wind split through the grove, Riwyn ducked her chin against her cloak, hiding her face from the brunt of the force though she could not hide the tremor that rippled across her body. Solas raised a casual arm to the gust as if it was nothing more than a mild annoyance that got in his way.

“Aren’t you freezing?” she managed to squeak out around her chattering teeth.

He almost looked amused when he glanced towards her. “Not particularly. It may come as a surprise to you, but magic has more uses than making oaths to demons or performing blood rituals in the moonlight.”

Riwyn scowled, hands numb and cheeks rosy from the cold.

The sound of his footfalls grew louder as the apostate slowly approached her, coming to a halt only when he was a few mere feet away. When she glanced up at him the amusement was gone, and in its place rested a concerned expression she had not expected. “You’re cold. If you are not careful, you will get sick, and then where would we be?” A coy smile played at the corner of his lips though his eyes never changed, an anxious worry residing within his violet, grey irises.

Solas raised his hands in the universal ‘I mean no harm’ gesture as he extended them out towards her. Riwyn’s first instinct was to dart away, to flee, but with the cold seeping into her bones, she would be sluggish. “If I desired to hurt you, I could have long before now,” he stated, clearly able to read her.

“Astonishingly, that doesn’t comfort me,” she quipped, pressing her back further against the base of the tree, refusing to flinch when his palms rested upon her shivering shoulders.

“Trust me, _please_.” Gradually a warmth spread from his hands, enveloping her upper extremities and coating her torso. It banished the ice that threatened to encase her, his magic creating an aura around the two of them. Snowflakes melted upon touching the invisible barrier, never landing. The heat slunk across her stomach and down her legs, her toes curling as feeling returned to them. He gently caressed his finger up her neck, cupping her chin, rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks that were blushed pink for another reason entirely than the cold.

“Better?”

His voice seemed to break her from her trance, blinking hard to clear her mind. “Uh… I… That is…”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” Her eyes narrowed, lips tightening into a thin line. She refused to allow him to feel satisfied in his victory, she would not admit defeat.

Solas stepped away, dropping his hands. “The spell will wear off in a few hours, I recommend seeking shelter prior to then, preferably back at Haven.” With that he turned, placing his back to her and began his trek to the gate that marked the entrance to the temple above.

Riwyn called out to him, “Why did you do that?”

Glancing only briefly over his shoulders, he replied, “Perhaps magic is not as dreadful as you first presumed, I only wish to prove that to you. You have been through enough.”

Then he was gone, leaving her alone with a warmed cheek and a fluttery heart she had no clue how to deal with.

**-oOo-**

The tavern was alight with activity. The smell of baked bread wafted into the room, paired with the scent of berries and smoke. A roaring fire in the pit warmed her aching, chilled bones; the heat of the flames sunk into her flesh and caused a rosy blush to caress her cheeks. Maryden was picking at her lute in the corner, humming a tune Riwyn did not recognize. Granted, that wasn’t uncommon – being a Dalish, she hardly knew any of the shem songs, and the few times she had dared ask the bard if she knew any elven tales, Maryden replied with a sympathetic ‘no’. Still, the lull of the music, the ebb and flow of the notes as they twinkled around dining area was comforting. They allowed the people of Haven to pretend that Thedas wasn’t falling apart at the seams, that there wasn’t a gaping hole torn across the blue skies.

It gave them permission to forget… and that was the best remedy one could afford at a time like this.

Varric was seated near the hearth, scarlet tunic glowing from the embers among the ashes and logs. He held an open book, quill and ink resting on the table beside him. As she grew closer, she watched as he dipped the quill and scribbled onto the blank parchment.

“Writing another book?” she asked once within earshot, taking a seat across from him and pulling the hood off from around her head.

He winked up at her. “An author’s work is never done. You didn’t think a little thing like the Breach would stop that, did you?”

Riwyn shrugged one of her shoulders, gaze falling to the flames. “Seems like an odd time to write.”

“Kitten, this is the perfect time to write.”

She arched a brow at him, wrinkling her nose. “How do you figure?” she waved a hand dismissively to those that consumed the tavern. Their faces were drawn though some managed to force a meek smile or halfhearted laugh, but their eyes told the real tale – they were just as terrified as everyone else. “No one seems to be much in the mood for storytelling, not when they are waiting for a hero to arrive and save the world.”

Varric’s face took on a grim expression. “You have a point there. But, hear me out on this, heroes are everywhere. I've seen that. But a hole in the sky? That's beyond heroes. We're going to need a miracle.” As he dipped his quill into the ink jar once more, he continued, “In the meantime, until that shows up? I’m going to do my best to help the people around here. Writing is what I’m good at, it’s the least I can do. It may not be the longest lasting diversion, but if it takes their minds off of the shit we have going on outside our front doors? I’m happy with that.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds were that of his quill scratching against the paper or the murmurings of the crowds that entered the tavern to escape the frigid air. Maryden flew into another song, her nightingale voice singing tales of the Grey Wardens. A handful of the children moved to stand before her, swaying to the beat of her music, losing themselves to the sagas she spun.

Varric was right, Riwyn finally agreed. At least he was _doing_ something. At least the bard was _doing_ something. Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen… they all worked diligently to formulate a strategy to stop the Breach, to close it for good. Even Solas… He was providing whatever knowledge he could to bolster their efforts. He was using his magic for good.

Her fingertips rose to gently rest on her cheek where his hand had gifted her with warmth.

They were all doing something…

And she? What was she doing?

She pulled her hand away, eyes falling to the faded mark that sizzled just below her skin. It was a key of sorts… it closed the holes the Fade tried to peak out through. But was it enough? Was _she_ doing enough?

If she had to be truly honest? She didn’t feel like it.

Her heart wasn’t in it.

“You’re making that face, kitten,” Varric chided.

When she peered up at him, she noticed that he had been watching her. “What face?”

“The ‘this shit is over my head and I feel helpless’ face.”

She furrowed her brows at him. “I don’t have a face like that.”

“Sure you do. You make it every time you look at that mark.”

Riwyn pulled her gaze from him, gluing it to her palm. Perhaps it was his knack for writing, for taking in detail that allowed Varric the ability to see things most other people would miss. Or perhaps he was just nosy. Either way… “They all expect so much of me,” she whispered, knowing she couldn’t deny the truth, not from him. He could see right through her. “I don’t even believe in Andraste, how am I supposed to be her Herald?”

He remained silent, not uttering a word and allowed her to continue.

“All I can do is close the rifts. I couldn’t stop the Breach. Hell, I don’t even know how I am doing it. I don’t know how long it will last… I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Many believe you were in the right place, where you needed to be, when you needed to be there,” he countered.

Her head shook with defiance. “No. They’re wrong. I’m just one elf. I’m just one person.”

“You have that much right. But, you stopped the Breach. Yes, yes, it’s still open. But you stopped it from growing. That alone is an achievement. You’re too hard on yourself.” Her lips began to pull down into a frown but he spoke again before she could reply, “Maybe you don’t have belief in yourself but, these people?” he tilted his head towards the dancing children and chatting men and women. “They believe in you. The Seeker, Curly, Nightingale, and Ruffles, they believe in you too. And so do I. And, besides, we have your back. You aren’t doing this alone, kitten.”

Varric reached over and clasped his hand around her own, his fingers covering the mark. “Your very existence gives these people courage. In time, I hope you can come to see that too.”

She stared at their hands for a moment. The sheer amount of confidence he had in her… she couldn’t describe it. They had only known each other for a week or two but already they had become close friends. Varric was the only one she felt like she could trust completely, the only one she felt like she could come to with her doubt. And the way he was able to wipe them away… “Thank you, Varric.”

“Any time.”


	4. Lessons to be Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riwyn learns to ride. Solas attempts to get answers.

“Keep your heels down,” Blackwall lectured, grabbing hold of her foot and turning the heel downwards in the stirrups. The position felt awkward, her legs spread apart over the saddle, fingers knotted in the reins in such a way she was certain she wouldn’t be able to repeat it once the Grey Warden stepped away. Her posture was so specifically aligned she was afraid to draw in a decent lungful of air, terrified the sheer movement of the partial cape that flipped over her right shoulder would alter her riding ability. Blackwall must have seen this because his next instruction was, “And remember to breathe.”

Riwyn took in a slow inhale, her vivid jade eyes glancing downwards at the horse that stood below her. Could the beast feel her fright? _Probably_. Blackwall said he could. Her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest, her muscles were tight with nerves and her skin felt abuzz as adrenaline laced through her veins.

_Why was this a good idea again?_

_And why is everyone watching?_

She agreed that the addition of mounts to the Inquisition was a great idea and was more than willing to hunt down the Horse Master during one of their incursions in the Hinterlands. They had learned of his location after aiding the Mother and refugees. _Lasa ghilan, we have to go back there come morning to distribute the blankets our soldiers found in the foothills_. Another item to add to the ever endlessly growing list of tasks she had to complete.

Having steeds made traveling quicker, the time it took to get from Haven to the surrounding areas was significantly reduced. Course, that doesn’t mean she necessarily thought through what would happen upon their acquisition: she needed to learn how to ride one. Needless to say, she felt much safer on the ground.

Blackwall had been working with her for the past few days, a handful of hours every evening after the troops finished training. Most people returned to their homes or to the tavern at this time, losing themselves in the bard’s music. Someone spread the world that the Herald of Andraste was learning to ride and since, more and more began to come to observe the lessons. Riwyn had intentions of tracking down the leak and finding justice. She had gold placed that it was Sera and her thrill of making Riwyn’s life more… _entertaining_ , for lack of a better word.

“Okay, ready?” Blackwall asked, a concerned look in his eyes as he peered up to her. He was the newest addition to the group but it already felt like he had been part of them since the beginning. He made his place in the ranks of soldiers and his input on the Wardens and darkspawn movements were helpful. His overall detachment from the rest of the Wardens was inconvenient but she could work around it. She trusted him at her side. Ashrill would like him; she would say he reminded her of their father.

“No?” she replied, forming the answer into a question as her brow knitted with indecision.

“You’ll be okay, the horse won’t let you fall.”

“What, can you read horse minds now?” Riwyn replied, rolling her eyes at the Warden.

“Well… No. But… Uh… Just trust him.”

Riwyn blew out her breath through her nose, rolling her shoulders slightly to loosen the tension.

“Heels down,” he chided, grasping her leather booted foot once more and tugging it into the correct position. “It’ll help with balance.”

“Right. Okay. I got this.” She didn’t have this, Gods she was going to fall. She could see it now, face planting the crisp white snow banks ten feet ahead. The soldiers would laugh, maybe even Cassandra would smile for once assuming the action wouldn’t crack her face in half in the process. Solas would smirk at her and give her that knowing look. Sera would burst out in a round of giggles that would result with her ass on the ground. Varric would add it to his book, she was sure of that. Vivienne would likely inform her on how to avoid such embarrassing endeavors in the future, and maybe that her chin should be a centimeter or two higher in the air.

She clicked her tongue, squeezing her calves just enough to encourage the horse forward. He started at a walk, each step placed making small crunching noises in the snow. “Easy, that’s good,” she could hear Blackwall comment as he strode along beside them. He had promised to remain next to her for as long as he could. “Match the rhythm of the horse with your own.”

She did as instructed, swaying from side to side, glancing down at the horse for reference until she felt like she had it.

“Now go faster.”

“Faster? Are you _kidding_ me?” Riwyn bit out between clenched teeth. “Isn’t this fast enough?”

Blackwall chuckled, eyes sparkling with humor. “Think of it this way. Say a bear is chasing you, you’d need to run, right?”

“Sure but-“

“Or if you had to get to a village before it burned to the ground, or free a young child from a group of thieving bandits, or to make it to a rift before the monstrosities pouring from it could condemn innocents for death?”

“Yeah, I can see that bu-“

“Or maybe just to live a little? Have some fun, Lavellan. Go!” And with that he swatted at the horse’s flank, inspiring the horse to lurch down the dirt laden path.

Squealing, Riwyn grasped the reins tighter, hair whipped out of her face, snowflakes slapping her skin, heart raced to match the hooves of the horse. Her breath felt like it was stolen from her as he hurtled ahead.

White hot awareness spiked through her system allowing her mind to work at double time, recalling everything Blackwall had said beforehand. Shoulders back, posture straight, knees in, muscles loose but body molded into the perfect posture, fingers tied into reins. Leaning left at the end of the bank guided her horse to do the same.

“Heels down!!” Blackwall shouted but the amusement in his voice drowned out the scolding in his tone.

It felt like… Like she was _flying_.

Her breath slowed, controlled. Heart decelerated into a healthy pace. She _could_ do this. Laughter bubbled up from her throat, pressed past her lips until she was grinning ear to ear.

After the next bend she slowed to a stop, the horse panting quietly below her.

“Now was that so terrible?” Blackwall commented.

“Let’s go again.”

_Let me live before I have to go back to work._

**-oOo-**

The next day she found herself up to her pointed ears in a diverse nature of tasks. She was accompanied by Solas, Cassandra, and Varric… an odd bunch but at least she trusted them, to an extent. However, between Varric and Cassandra’s constant snide bickering, Solas’ musings over the Veil and magic, and the moans and groans of refugees who, in her personal opinion, needed to do a little bit more for themselves instead of relying on a meager caravan of four to handle every single one of their petty needs, and her traveling companion’s viewpoints on said needs… Gods… she was at her wits end. Perhaps she would have to rethink her mission party upon her return to Haven.

To add to the list of dreary occurrences, the Hinterlands were ripe with tension. Raging Templars, crazed apostates, and did she mention the countless refugees? Every bend in the path made her breath hitch in her throat, made her hair stand on end… she never knew if she was going to come face to face with a flaming red hot fireball or an iron blade swinging for her throat. Or, perhaps, a really, _really_ angry bear.

Her armor was singed and tattered from the many fights they had partaken in throughout the day. Her muscles ached beyond measure, her back taut as she stretched in front of the smoldering embers, night falling around them. The heat soothed some of the tightness that cursed her joints but not all.

_Ashrill would frown at me… Find a positive… There has to be a positive._

She bit her bottom lip, gaze gliding across the small camp they had made along the brim of a canyon. Her fingers rose to clutch the charm that hung at the base of her neck, grounding herself as the metal rolled between her calloused finger tips. The sound of a bird chirping reached her, it’s melodic tune fluttering out through the rustling leaves and branches, the cool breeze blowing her untamed hair from her face. The smell of wood burning was calming, reminding of her Clan, reminding her of home. Okay… she had something.

The silver lining for today? The Hinterlands certainly was not nearly as cold as Haven.

It wasn’t even snowing.

Still, even with all her gripes… this was a thousand and one times better than sitting at the War Table making decisions.

And the camp was cozy, the fire welcoming… and, because her companions were silent? Peaceful.

At least out here she was _doing_ something.

Whether it was gathering meager supplies, hunting rams, chasing down sons to receive potions, or closing the rifts that littered the wooded area, Riwyn felt more at ease here despite the madness that surrounded her. If it meant she could relieve the minds of a handful of innocent people, she would complete any task, regardless of her complaints that debated otherwise.

The sun was setting now, looming just under the treeline and casting long shadows across their campsite. Cassandra had a book propped open on one of her knees, the cover obscured in the darkness. She wore an expression that was a compilation of awe, thoughtfulness, and trepidation. Varric was fiddling with Bianca, the crossbow string just not stiff enough, or so he had said after a few misfires in their last fight with a wolf pack. Solas was returning from setting up a handful of protection wards around their clearing, his eyes flicking to rest on Riwyn for a brief moment before he gazed towards the smoldering fire.

He knew to keep his distance from her, but his eyes would always linger. What was he so curious about? What about her fascinated him? She assumed she would never know.

The soldiers were going about their evening tasks. Riwyn felt out of place, not aiding them. Back at her Clan, she typically helped to watch the camp at nightfall, taking turns with her other clan mates in protecting the perimeter. Her usual place was with such people, not nestled by a fire cleaning the blood and grime from her gear and making small talk with shems.

The small thud of Cassandra’s book closing caught Riwyn’s attention, her head bobbing up as she watched the woman begin to gather her things.

“Going to sleep so soon, Seeker?” Varric called, the corner of his lips turning up into a smirk.

She scoffed at him. “I can’t imagine what you are referring to.”

The last time they had ventured to the Hinterlands, she and Varric had been forced to share a tent simply based on circumstance. Cassandra apparently had intentions of getting to a tent before anyone else to prevent this from happening again.

She disappeared behind the folds of a tent, Varric chuckling low under his breath as he returned his attention back to his crossbow.

But perhaps she had the right idea.

Having to share a sleeping space with Solas had been… uncomfortable, to say the least. She had slept for little more than an hour or two, leaving her drained and fatigued the morning after. He was abnormal, different… He made her cautious, wary, uncertain. He had magic but, thus far, had done nothing more than be helpful. She wanted to trust him, wanted to place her faith in him but…

Her mind flashed with images, of Magisters and their evil snide grins, malice dancing in their eyes.

No... She couldn’t trust him… not yet.

No matter how kind he was, no matter how empathetic he was. No matter how thoughtful he was of how his presence affected her, and how he respected her personal space.

No matter how, for some inexplicable reason, her heart would pick up speed when he approached.

No matter how she had suddenly felt so short of breath when his fingers had caressed her cheek.

Yes, better to nip that in the bud. He was a Mage. He was a threat. So, for now, she would bunk with the Seeker.

However, she had no desire to share a tent with Cassandra, not in truth. Riwyn assumed the woman was kind at heart but… it was hard to look past the whole prisoner-jailer feeling she had received during their first few hours together. Cassandra had been making strides to improve it but as of now, they just were not enough to make Riwyn any more relaxed around her.

So, off to the lone tent she went. She would wake with either Varric or Solas in her tent… _Please, let it be Varric._ He may be quirky but at least he was friendly and caring. He snored, but she could look past that.

Crawling into the tent, she unclasped her armor from her sides, letting the leather and plate fall to the ground. She placed her great sword near her bedroll and tied her white blonde hair into a loose braid, the length of it falling midway down her back. Riwyn blew out the lantern that illuminated the tent, shadowing the small area in darkness save the slit that opened into the camp. With one last wary glance back towards her companions still seated at the fire, their silhouettes flickering in the red and gold of the flames, Riwyn curled up under the blankets and forced herself to succumb to sleep.

**-oOo-**

It was late, the fire gone and it’s only remnants prevalent in a few burning embers. Varric had long joined the tent Riwyn had disappeared into, his soft snores audible from where Solas sat. He doubted the Seeker would welcome his presence in her tent, an apostate slumbering next to her would certainly cause unnecessary attention come morning. Thus, he remained where he was, a tree to his back and his staff resting at his feet.

The elf mage scanned the skies, his eyes resting on the Breach, green hues coloring the heavens and obscuring the stars. Never had he fathomed that events would unfold such as this. His orb tore a hole into the universe, obliterated any chance at peace the mages and Templars could have had, and dissolved the realm of Thedas into chaos. He had hoped Corypheus would perish in powering his focus… not learn how to unlock it and cause such madness. It was not supposed to happen this way.

And now Riwyn would pay the price.

He had thought her little more than an annoyance when he first learned of her hand and of how his anchor had somehow materialized in her flesh. He had attempted to remove the mark but met failure at every turn. Instead he knew he had to keep her alive, she was the one piece of the puzzle he had to play with and he intended on utilizing her to his fullest potential.

To do that, he had to gain her trust. A task that was proving exceedingly difficult with every passing second due to her outright fear of the arcane. He knew so very little of her, her past and what made her who she was today; he knew not if the anchor changed her in some way or altered her spirit. The invisible shield she had built so diligently between herself and the outside world was impenetrable. Her attitude and quick tongue allowed her to push all away from her, no matter how desperate their attempts at getting close were. She was an anomaly… not part of the plan… but something he had to learn to deal with.

Solas first had to prove to the warrior that magic could be used for good, that it held purposes beyond bloodshed. Then, he needed to learn more about her, get just close enough to her that he could plant the seeds that would lead to his end goal.

The doing bit, the how behind it all? He hadn’t figured that out yet.

And, beyond that, there were more complications.

His gaze curved towards her tent once more, the left side of his lips tugging into a smile.

She became so animated when she spoke of things she felt strongly for, adamant when she argued that every life should be spared or aided. Her emerald eyes would light up when she laughed, the amount of effort she put into working to help complete strangers. She was beautiful, certainly, even with the mark of the vallaslin on her face. Her hair always wildly placed around her, the tie she would place in her hair never enough to keep it fully maintained.

This was a problem.

This infatuation for her, this attraction, it was an unexpected and unwanted problem.

He mentally had to remind himself to keep his distance, for reasons beyond her distaste of magic. No matter how easy it was to speak to her about the Fade and his past, coated in lies his stories were, he had to remain as nothing more than an advisor. She must mean nothing to him for this to work.

Still…. He needed to know more of her. If speaking directly to her was out of the question, he would have to find other means.

Thankfully, he had an idea.

Going into another’s dreams was never a difficult task for him. There was a morality behind it, if it was right or wrong to invade a persona’s private thoughts in such a way. But he required information, and he had no other way to do so. What questions he had asked, she had provided minimal answers. It was time for a different approach.

Taking a deep breath, Solas closed his eyes, reaching out for her in the Fade. He found her easily enough, the mark on her hand giving her location away like a beacon in the night. Edging into her dream was even more simplistic, the warrior holding little understanding of the Fade aside from what he had shared with her. He would need to teach her how to set up her own barriers in order to safeguard herself from demons that would seek to do the same.

He would take the form of a wolf, an amusing image he thought, but one that would be able to hide out of sight, one that would be unassuming.

 

_“Hurry up, Riwyn!” someone called, a female elf loping into view. She shared many features similar to Riwyn’s save her hair which was a shade darker and eyes lighter, a few years younger in age. A relative? A sister?_

_“Just a bit longer, Ashrill,” he heard Riwyn laugh back. She wore armor that was clearly Dalish, of Clan Lavellan. “The cave was just up ahead, isn’t that what Leeta said?”_

_The one known as Ashrill sighed heavily, but gave a short nod and a wary smile. Her bow hung lazily on her shoulders, a quiver full of silver tipped arrows slung across a shoulder. “I am blaming you if the Keeper is angry!”_

_“She would expect nothing less and you know that!” Riwyn replied, disappearing into the dense woods of the Free Marches. The wolf kept a fair bit of distance behind the two elves but remained close to hear and see what occurred._

_“So, Sorris spoke to me again today,” Ashrill started, staring at the ground with bright cheeks as she followed Riwyn, the tips of her ears coloring crimson with blush._

_Riwyn frowned disapprovingly. “Wasn’t he the one that the Keeper was considering to make her First?”_

_“Yes, but he is quite good at magic. He hasn’t started anything on fire or hurt anyone.”_

_“Ashrill…. I know you are fond of him but…”_

_“This isn’t like Denerim,” her tone was exasperated, as if this was a conversation they had had several times before._

_“No but magic isn’t so easy to control, you can’t trust it. In the wrong hands it could-“_

_“Sorris wouldn’t do that. He isn’t like the ones that were at the alienage, he’s an elf just like us.”_

_“So were some of the ones that helped the mages back then too, unless you forgot.” There was a bite in her tone Solas had not heard before, one filled with hate and anger and disgust._

_Ashrill exhaled slowly. “When are you going to let what happened go? It’s been over ten years now.”_

_Suddenly a screech was heard through the trees, wind whipping past them as it howled, tearing smaller branches from their hold and shredded leaves free. “What’s happening?” Ashrill cried, raising a hand to see through the dirt and dust. Panic laced its way into her words, her eyes frantically flicking about the clearing._

_“I-“ Riwyn began but her voice was lost as an explosion ripped out, green spewing from the sky above and creeping down towards the forest. Riwyn’s body went rigid, lips parted and eyes wide in horror. The heavens itself roared in protest as the Breach formed, screaming as if in agony._

_“Riwyn, what’s happening?”_

_Riwyn’s hand shot forwards, the anchor searing to life, causing her to gasp, face contorted with pain. She clasped her left hand with her right, trying to stop it from raising as tendrils of green energy tied her to the sky. “Get back to camp!” she ordered, “Warn the others!”_

_“I’m not leaving you!” Ashrill refused, a shakiness in her voice that wasn’t present before._

_The Breach shuddered again, buckling as lightning burst from the hole it created. Riwyn cursed, falling to her knees. “Make it stop!” she shrieked._

_And the dream collapsed, falling to blackness._

 

Solas inhaled sharply from his resting place, the rising sun just barely touching him through the trees.

“Bad dream?” Riwyn asked, arching a brow at him. She knelt over the fire, stoking the remains to life. An empty pan rested to her left, an assortment of raw meats and bread beside it, a half dozen chicken eggs too. The others had not woken as of yet but many of the soldiers were active. She watched as Solas rubbed a hand over his eyes, shaking the sleep from his mind, groggily standing to come join her. Perhaps she was not the only one who hadn’t slept well.

“Not precisely,” he replied, taking a seat beside her. His gaze occasionally moving to her, lips parting as if he intended on saying something more but closing without any words spoken.

She was quiet for a few moments as she worked, breaking the eggs over the skillet once the flames heat it. After a few short moments she broke the silence, “We are almost finished in the Hinterlands. We just need to acquire some more horses and then we can return to Haven. Blackwall says I’m improving as far as my riding goes… I bet everyone back home will be shocked when I told them a shem taught me how to ride.”

When Solas still did not respond she finally gave in, “Is something bothering you?” Though she knew distance was best… she couldn’t halt her innate curiosity.

He appeared to consider this, choosing his words before replying, “Apologies. I simply want to know more about you but am at a loss as to where I should start.”

Her jade eyes widened a fraction of an inch, cheeks turning a slight shade of pink that was thankfully hidden by the sun behind her. “There isn’t that much to know of me, I’m not very interesting.” Another half-answer, another dodge around his questions.

“On the contrary. You chose a path that many others would shy away from, gaining strength and ability. I imagine that can be quite useful,” there was a coyness in his tone she couldn’t place, the way the corners of his eyes pinched slightly with amusement.

“Are you saying you enjoy my side benefits?” _Joking? Stop… Don’t be coy. He’s a mage._

His lips parted once more, a hint of a smile forming… but the flaps of Varric’s tent parted, the dwarf dragging himself out, breaking the moment. “Whatever you are making, it smells delicious. Good to see that not all elves share Daisy’s cooking skills.”

“Another time,” Solas finished, the smirk still present however as he bowed his head towards the fire once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would LOVE to give a huge shout-out to PaladinGarrus for her AMAZING beta-reading. If you haven't checked out her Fallout 4 orDragon Age Inquisition fics, you're missing out. I highly recommend giving them a peak. :)


	5. A Quick Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riwyn scans through Solas' belongings... but the warm moment cannot last when trouble is brewing on the horizon.

As far as Haven was concerned, it was warm out. Still brisk and far too cold to go out without a jacket, but at the very least she could feel all of her toes and fingers. Snow frosted over the roof tops, icicles hung down over the edges, threatening to fall on anyone who was foolish enough to stand below them.

The smell of wood smoke and pine engulfed the small encampment, lacing the air with a comforting aura. It reminded her of home, of her clan….

Of Ashrill…

She had written back to her sister a week or two prior and, while she knew that delivery of said message would take time, the lack of her sister’s reply set her nerves on edge. Ashrill wouldn’t ignore Riwyn’s response, not for this long.

So, why hadn’t she heard anything yet?

Josephine had promised, on more than a handful occasions, that she would alert Riwyn the moment she got a whiff of a letter. But that did little to quell the doubt that gnawed at the inside of Riwyn’s mind day in and day out.

Her companions worked diligently to keep her thoughts at bay. Blackwall continued her riding lessons, Cassandra sparred with her, Iron Bull filled her head with ale’s sweet ignorance, and Sera jested and pranked. Cullen chattered on about defensive tactics, Leliana told her stories of dragons and bards, and Josie offered her advice on their next political move and how best to speak to noblemen and women… which she sorely needed more education on. How was she supposed to know just how low to curtsey or which fork to use for salad and which to use for dessert? Shems were beyond confusing.

But still, the ebb and sway of uncertainty plagued her dreams.

_Where are you, Ashrill?_

Even the ceaseless amount of requests and tasks couldn’t dull the reservations she held so close. The Hinterlands was completely cleared – bandits were taken care of, civilians calmed, Templar and Mage threats alike quieted for the foreseeable future, plenty of elfroot collected, and Redcliff discovered. Though they had done little with the small lakeside village thus far, they had plans to return the following morning to ensure that their business there was finished for the time being.

Needless to say, Riwyn wasn’t looking forward to that particular trip. Not again.

Then they were to trek to Val Royeaux to speak to the leaders of the Templars. Seems that not everyone was thrilled with the slowing of the Breach and were insistent that finger pointing start as soon as possible. This time, blame was being placed full heartedly towards the escaped Mages.

Riwyn would usually jump on that particular bandwagon but… her time with Solas and Vivienne was beginning to cloud her once feverishly held beliefs. Mages didn’t cause this… of that she was certain. So, if she could lessen the brunt force of scrutiny that wasn’t flaming towards them like a fire ball, she would do what she could.

Until then, she had free time to play with. Much too much free time. Too much time to worry.

Her method of remedying that? Wandering, moving from one end of camp to another. More and more refugees were showing up by the day, Cassandra was beginning to question where they would all go since space was running out. Sera wasn’t thrilled seeing as her tavern space was being taken. Cullen didn’t care as long as the children stayed away from all the extremely pointy weapons – his change of expression when any of the little ones traveled too close to the soldiers was priceless, all bent with worry.

She was nearing Solas’ hut, nestled next to the apothecary. Her eyes narrowed, brow furrowing. He wasn’t outside, not standing in his usual position, arms crossed and that look of concentration plastered onto his face. _Odd_.

Though she had no true intentions of speaking to him, she had begun to enjoy his company. She did well to keep him at arm’s length but his viewpoint on the Fade and magic as a whole interested her. He painted the arcane with understanding, made her believe that perhaps mages were not to be as feared as she once thought.

And the way his violet eyes would crinkle with amusement when she would claim so, was warming.

Moving forward she peered in through one of the windows, rubbing away some of the snow to see better. “No one is home,” she mused. Then her lips turned up into a childish grin. Quickly hopping to the door she tried the handle, jiggling it softly and giving a sharp inhale when she found it was unlocked. “Don’t mind if I do,” she purred as she allowed herself into the cabin.

There was a bed, a fire roaring away in the fireplace with a pot heating, a few candles lit, and shelves upon shelves of books and a desk full of papers. A quick scan of the tomes left her unsurprised – information about the Fade, Fade beasts, magic, and healing herbs and tonics. A few of them detailed Gods and Goddesses from several different religions, lore on Ferelden and Orlais, and customs such as holidays and festivals for each location as well.

It was his desk that interested her most. A few bobbles, containers with glowing liquid she didn’t recognize, herbs and spices in small packages, some crushed and some left whole took up the majority of the countertop. Pieces of parchment were strewn about, ancient writing on a few but most of it was illegible. Her slender fingers slid through the documents, jade eyes catching what glimpses she could… until finally her focus rested on a small leather bound book – different from the ones that adorned the bookshelves behind her.

Her gaze flicked towards the door, her teeth biting at her bottom lip. What was she doing? She was invading his space, his personal area.

She shouldn’t be here.

But the little voice in the back of her head snickered and her focus locked in onto the tome once more.

Gently retrieving the book, she scanned the cover for any indication of the title but found none. Her full lips turned into a frown, hands moving to open the tome and reveal its contents. The spine was worn, clearly the book had been opened and closed several times. The sides were faded, padded down by soft finger tips. Inside were drawings, sketches, doodles, and outlines of beasts they had fought, places they had been… and some places she had never seen before. Some of these unfamiliar places had names, small paragraphs of information that listed a time and location. Was this how he kept track of all the places he went when he visited the Fade?

Skimming through the tome more led her to very detailed pictures of those they traveled with – Cassandra, Varric, Sera, the Iron Bull, Blackwall, and so on. At first Riwyn saw very few of herself, and when she did her back would be turned or her face was away from view. However, the further into the tome she went, the more she began to show up. Her head turned towards him, eyes vibrant, facial features more pronounced, her figure more prominent.

One of such pictures was of when he had provided her warmth that morning she decided to remain out in the cold – her ivory hood up, wisps of blonde hair wildly escaping from it, bright eyes reflecting the vivid green of the Breach, lips parted, but gaze full of wonder.

She looked… _beautiful_. Was this what he saw of her? This wild and untamed beauty? Another picture was of her, hand outstretched towards a Rift, a concentrated expression pulling her face tight, teeth clenched, sword at her side. She looked powerful, determined, brave… all the things she knew she did not feel but that he somehow saw in her. Another sketch was of her laughing with Sera, eyes sparkling and hands covered in snow, water dripping from her hair where Sera had smashed a snow ball. The amount of effort he had put into each of these…. And they looked so flawless.

_But why?_

“Has no one told you it is rude to go through someone else’s belongings?”

Riwiyn yelped, slamming the leather bound book closed, lips parted in shock as her head snapped to the now open doorway and a very exasperated looking Solas standing in its entrance. “I… Uh… You weren’t home.”

“So you decided going through my personal belongings would be a good way to spend your time?” His voice wasn’t one of anger, which was what she had been expecting. Instead, it was laced with confusion, interest, as if her actions were fascinating to him. “I did not have you pegged as the snooping sort.”

“I don’t usually. I just…” Just, _what_? Why had she been so interested in coming in here? She supposed if she was being honest, it was to learn more about him. Though she was still slightly wary of the elf, she couldn’t deny the pull she felt towards him. His knowledge of the Fade was intriguing and she found herself wanting to share some of his understanding, even if the thought frightened her. Perhaps he had held some point when he told her not all magic was evil and to be dreaded. “I just wanted to know more of you.”

His expression softened. “All you have to do is but ask. I have told you this.”

“Yes but… I’ve never truly been one for small talk. It always seems so awkward and forced.” Years of being an alienage elf trained her into silence; you learned much more from watching than filing the silence. Her clan had done much to open her up, but it seems she became shy once more around strangers.

“I understand completely,” Solas replied, finally closing the door behind him, removing the furs from around his shoulders and returning them to a hook on the far wall. “I usually feel more comfortable in the Fade, talking to spirits. There, emotions and feelings are portrayed accurately, without having to even utter a word of them. But you didn’t come here for a lecture on the Fade, I’m assuming.”

He moved to the fire, confiscating the pot she had noticed upon her entry. She observed him as he gathered two cups, pouring some of the liquid that rested inside the kettle into them. When he turned to her, his eyes fell to the book she still held in her hands. “Ah,” he muttered, expression turning into one of… was that _embarrassment_? The tips of his ears darkened, his cheeks burned a hue of red. “That is nothing more than my journal, depicting our journeys together and of mine in the Fade.” Solas held out one of the cups towards Riwyn which she took. The clay felt warm against her chilled fingertips.

“I believe there is far more in here than that,” she retorted, lips turning upwards into a sly grin. He had not assumed she had gotten so far into it.

“Oh?” he tried, not sure how to dodge around this particular topic.

“You’re drawings of our companions are beautiful, I didn’t know you could draw. You shouldn’t be so ashamed of it.”

“It’s nothing more than a hobby.” He took a sip from his own mug, pointed glare gluing itself firmly to the fire pit, away from her.

Riwyn snorted in reply. “Call it what you will, you have talent. Makes me wonder what you could do if you had more space.”

He paused for a moment, taking another taste of his drink, watching the embers roar into flames. “When I was younger, I used to canvas walls with what I witnessed in the Fade. But that was many years ago. And there is no space in Haven that would allow me to paint in such a way, even if I wanted to.”

“But if you did have the space?” Riwyn hedged, leaning against his desk, facing him fully. She sampled her beverage. The liquid was endowed with cinnamon and spice, of honey and chocolate. It was wonderful.

“I might. It is a way of relaxation and stress relief, and one that does not cause Cassandra to worry since it does not involve magic or spirits.” He chuckled at that, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Perhaps if we were to gain a larger camp, I could paint again. However, I lack the tools.”

“I am certain we could find some in Redcliff or Val Royeaux.”

“You need not worry yourself with such things – you have plenty more to deal with than my silly hobby,” Solas waved a hand dismissively, shaking his head.

“I want to.”

He arched a brow, looking at her. “Why?”

“Because everyone here needs some sort of peace. Varric writes, Cassandra and Bull swing swords, Sera pesters the refuges, and Vivienne prattles on and on about how right she is. If yours comes in the form of drawing, than I am more than happy to help.”

Solas coughed at the mention of Vivienne, a hint of humor playing at his irises as he peered at her for the briefest of moments. But then he grew silent, considering her words with honest. When he looked towards her again, a smile danced across his lips, a genuine smile. The type of smile that made her heart beat a little faster, made her breath hitch in her throat. “Thank you, that would be appreciated.”

She turned to leave, setting her now empty cup on his desk and pulling her cloak more closely around her. As her hand reached for the handle of the door, Solas asked, “Did you see all of my sketches?”

Riwyn laughed quietly, smirking back at the elf. “I did.” And then left the small hut, closing the door behind her. Maybe another day she would ask as to why he drew so many pictures of her… but today it could be her fond memory.

**-oOo-**

The Chapel of Andraste was crammed wall to wall with refugees, bed rolls, tempered clay pottery, and the personal belongings of those who called the Temple home. The roar of chatter was difficult to think around as Riwyn moved across the rugged walkway. With her cloak hood up, she passed as yet another civilian, someone looking for a safe haven… and not the fabled Herald of Andraste she so vehemently desired not to be.

With her cape, she was nobody…

And nobodies were easily glossed over.

Which meant getting to the War Table Room would be simplistic.

Or, _should_ be…

And it was, truthfully, until Josie stepped out of her office to the left of the main door and clasped her elbow.

“Ah, Herald, I must speak to you.”

“The Herald?”

“She’s here?”

And the entire hall fell into complete and utter silence.

“Thanks,” Riwyn muttered under her breath, jaw setting.

An elderly woman stood and edged her way towards the pair. “I know… You must be ever so busy,” she began, bowing her head – an action that only resulted in an uncomfortable twist in Riwyn’s gut, “My son has gone missing. He’s been absent for two days. I humbly ask that you allow some of your forces to scour the mountains for him.”

Another stepped forward, taking his place beside the woman and mirroring her pose. “I too, dear Herald, have a request, if I may be so bold. But, several of us, myself including, are beginning to wonder just how you intend to feed and shelter us all. You must have noticed the lack of room in Haven?”

“Yes, and what of us who have not even made it inside the barricade? What do you intend to do with them?”

“And, pray tell, what if there are Mages among us? How do you know everyone here is safe?”

“Or safe to be around!” came a quick reply.

“Just a moment-“ Josie attempted.

“What are we going to do when winter hits?”

“What is the plan? How do you intend to close the Breach?”

“I-“ Riwyn took a tentative step back, toeing her way to the door Josephine had just exited from.

“Can you even close it?”

“You failed the first time!” jeering, bitter, angry…

And directed at her.

“Are you really Andraste’s Herald?”

The voices bubbled up, their volume increasing until the whole hall was awash with their cries. Some lowered their heads in respect while others of them shook their fists with fury. Some spoke quietly, wanting nothing more than to ask for aid, while others snarled and hissed.

It was a nest of vipers.

And she was their prey.

“SILENCE!”

Cullen’s bulky form thundered into the room, the War Room’s door slamming open and clanging heavily against the wall.

Had she not known the man better, she would cower.

“Your concerns will be addressed one by one, as we agreed upon. Now, please, be quiet. There are children present. Return to your stations.” He spoke with such conviction, such bravery and verdict that the refugees could do nothing more than comply.

But their turned backs did nothing to quiet her guilt.

They were right…

She wasn’t the Herald. She was nothing more than a liar, deceiving them, convincing them to believe she was some sort of Godly messenger, here to save their souls from the Breach.

But so far? She hadn’t saved anyone. Not a single damned person, shem or otherwise.

She was _fraud_.

“Don’t listen to them,” Josie whispered as she gently tugged Riwyn away from the crowds and into her office space. “They do not know what they speak of.” Her Orleisan accent weighed her voice down as her bronzed hands raising to tuck a piece of her curled black hair behind her ear.

Her office was filled with odds and ends, trinkets from her time in Orlais. Flowing silk and cloth of a variety of colors was draped luxuriously across the couch in the corner. Her desk was peppered with ink wells and quills, scattered pieces of paper with stamps and seals from all over Thedas. Candles were lit, their flames left to flicker in the darkened space. How she managed to work in here, Riwyn would never understand.

“They do though.”

“Nonsense. They are just frightened.”

“As they should be.”

Josephine sighed, leaning against the back of her desk. “You are doing what you can. That is enough.”

It wasn’t. They were no closer to their goal than they had been weeks ago. The Breach still remained.

But, that wasn’t why Josie had called her in here. “You said you wanted to see me?”

The advisor’s lips parted as if she wanted to press the previous topic but she snapped her mouth shut. For once Riwyn was thankful for Josie’s expertise with conversation. She knew when best to delve into a subject… and when to leave one well alone. “Yes, however, given circumstances, perhaps it is something that can wait for another time.”

“Josie. Don’t. Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it. I can’t hide in here forever anyways, and nothing you say can be as bad as what is awaiting me out there,” Riwyn tilted her head towards the entryway that was acting as a shield of sorts, protecting her from the refugees that clustered the room behind it.

“Ah, well… If you insist.” Her copper gaze flicked to the piece of parchment that rested upon her desk, her fingers outstretched to retrieve it. “A letter has come for you.”

Riwyn’s head snapped upwards. “Ashrill?”

“No, it is from your Keeper actually, but…” Her tone was hesitant, leery, as if she was being circled by a ravenous wolf and she was nothing more than a wide eyed bunny rabbit. “Like I said, perhaps it best if you wait to read it.”

“Why? What does it say?”

What happened? Was the Clan safe?

Was everyone alright?

Did they need assistance? Coin?

Was the Keeper requesting that she return home?

_What?_

“Riwyn…” Josie forced her eyes to meet the elf’s. “I do not know how to put this lightly but… Your sister is in trouble.”


	6. The Hunt for a Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1. After receiving a concerning message from Josie, Riwyn races out into the wilderness to find her missing sister, Ashrill.

Perhaps she was being irrational. Perhaps she was shirking her duty. Perhaps she should turn around. Perhaps she should go back and get reinforcement – Cassandra, Cullen, the whole damned army.

Perhaps….

But she wouldn’t.

Because she didn’t have time to.

No.

The moment the words had left Josephine’s lips, Riwyn fled from the hall. She ignored the refugees, ignored their scolding accusations, she ignored Leliana’s questioning gaze, ignored the way Iron Bull called after her. She ignored it all as she hefted her pack of meager belongings onto her slender shoulders, as she bowed her head, and headed into the storm.

Ashrill was missing, and may the Gods damn her to the lowest pit of Hell if she stood by and did _nothing_.

 _She would have followed my path… she would have used her hunting skills to track my steps._ That’s what Riwyn kept telling herself. She hoped that if she were to retrace her journey, she would stumble upon her sister. And, if the odds were in her favor, Ashrill would be safe and sound.

But, if the previous few weeks were anything to go by – her gut knew that she would never be so blessed.

_Oh, Ashrill… Please be in one piece._

_“Promise me you will be home by the night I fall asleep for the fourth time without you.”_

_I failed you, forgive me._

Riwyn had left Haven hours ago, already the sun was dipping below the horizon, drenching the world of Thedas in hues of purple and blue. The stars sprinkled themselves across the sky where the clouds could not snuff them out.

The snow bit at her soft skin, the winds howled past her pointed ears and pulled her hood from around her head. She hissed in a tight inhale, tucking her chin into her cloak, savoring the warmth her own body heat provided. She was beyond thankful for the fur coated shem boots she wore as she crunched through the foot high drifts.

Her blade felt heavy on her back, the long greatsword metal glistening green as the moonlight danced upon the hilt, tinging the steel with the color of the Breach. A constant reminder of her duty… and how she was denying it fulfillment.

In searching for her sister, she was abandoning her quest.

“I’ll return,” she whispered fiercely into the accursed blizzard. “ _With_ Ashrill.”

“Do you often make a habit of talking to yourself?”

Riwyn gasped, pivoting on her heels, gloved hand closing around her sword. “Who-“

Solas stood before her, a gentle expression plastered across his otherwise emotionless face. “I have not come to harm you.” His staff remained bound to its leather strap, his hand were stilled at his side, no evidence of a spell on his fingertips.

“What…” Her voice trailed off, nose crinkling. “What are you doing? Who sent you?”

Solas shook his head, taking a tentative step forward when she did not move to attack. “I have come of my own volition.”

“But _why_? Your place is at Haven, helping the others, getting ready to go to Val Royeaux.” This wasn’t his battle, this wasn’t his family. Aside from their brief conversations, he had little reason to aid her in such a task. And while she couldn’t ignore the indescribable draw she felt towards him… that wasn’t enough to place logic behind his actions.

“So should you, however, here we are.” By now he had come to stand beside her, his own gaze trailing towards the horizon.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Still she didn’t trust him, not completely. He was a mage. He was an unknown. No matter of warmth spells, barrier magic, or sketches in books was going to change that. Every nerve felt like it was on edge, her skin taut, muscles tight.

“We can discuss it as we travel. My understanding is that we have much ground to cover and time is of the essence. I assure you, I only mean to help.” Without waiting for her reply, he started forwards, following the same path she had intended to take. His arms were tucked behind his back though his pace was strong. He walked with purpose, with urgency.

Her lips parted, words playing at the tip of her tongue. But her jaw snapped shut. _Fine_. He didn’t want to give her information, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction in continual questioning.

Riwyn darted after him, matching his strides with ease, even edging in front of him. They spoke little as night deepened, as the storm continued. She could feel his eyes at her back, watching her, observing. What was he thinking? Why was he here? Was he worried she would run off? That she wouldn’t return? Or was he scheming something? What-

“To answer your previous question,” he started. “Cassandra sought me out once you fled camp.”

“I do not _flee_ ,” Riwyn muttered defensively.

He chuckled. “Not how she described it but fair enough. Once you _rapidly exited_ the camp. She explained the situation and that she was worried about you.”

Riwyn scoffed. “Cassandra? Worried about me?” She had no negative feelings for the Seeker. Not anymore, at least. But the woman’s concern came as a surprise. Riwyn had been under the assumption that the Lady cared for little more than serving the Chantry, that she didn’t have time for frivolous things such as friendships and worries.

“Her tone certainly implied it. She requested that I follow you. Though… judging on your reaction, I am guessing you would have preferred another companion,” his tone was cautious, wary. He knew how she felt about magic, he knew he was treading in dangerous waters.

“You’re not exactly right.”

“I am not exactly _wrong_ either.”

She huffed out a slow breath causing the snowflakes in front of her to sway back and forth before scurrying away. “Honestly? I would have preferred doing this alone.”

“Why is that? You have many people back at Haven who would gladly assist you if you were but to ask.”

Her jaw set. “That doesn’t mean that they have to. This is personal, it’s my own burden. Others don’t have to carry it.”

“What if they _want_ to?”

She had to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Right, because that’s why you’re here. Because you _want_ to be.”

“I do, actually.”

She did roll her eyes then as she turned to level a glare with the mage, back stepping as she spoke. “Please. Do tell. Why would you want to be out here in the middle of nowhere, searching for a woman you do not know and helping someone who doesn’t want you to be here.”

“Because your sister is important to you. Family is something that should be treasured.” Solas matched her voice, her pitch. “You have done much for others without asking for a single thing in return. Is it so hard to believe that others may want to do the same back? I am not here under any false pretenses. If locating your lost sister is so significant that you would abandon the Breach to search for her, then I will do everything in my power to aid you.”

Riwyn fell silent. She faced frontwards once more. Her anger, her biased nature had gotten the better of her, warped her judgement. “I’m sorry,” she paused before continuing, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You didn’t deserve that. I am thankful. Truly. I just… We’ve been through so much, Ashrill and I. It’s always just been the two of us, for so long. I’m not very trusting in general and the thought of someone helping me… It’s not comfortable.”

“Perhaps you will become accustomed to it. Regardless, I am here to stay until this job is done. Your apology is accepted.”

The silence spread between them then. Instead of filling it, Riwyn was grateful that Solas joined her in searching for any sign or clue that Ashrill had been present. The snow made footsteps impossible to locate, tracking not easy. The storm was letting up but nothing would undo the inches of snow that layered the ground.

They were North now, rounding Lake Calenhad. The moon was beginning to set. Her eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, her face almost raw from the wind that continually slammed against them.

 _Where are you, Ashrill?_ Was she held up in a cave somewhere? Being chased by wolves? Did the monsters from a tear in the veil find her? What if she was frozen, frost bitten, alone? Why had she gone off alone?

They had never been apart this long before. The quests and endless tasks at Haven had been enough to distract her but now… now she was acutely aware of the time that had passed. Guilt riddled her conscious, shame coated her soul. This was all her fault. If she had gone home to the Clan, Ashrill wouldn’t have left, she wouldn’t be missing. If Riwyn had kept her promise and returned as she should have…

_“Promise me.”_

_I’m so sorry… I didn’t return… I wasn’t home when you needed me._

_Seems I have failed everyone. Not just Thedas, but also the one person who matters to me the most._

“We should rest,” Solas advised ahead of her, voice pulling her from her internal grief.

“But-“ Riwyn started.

“You will be useless to your sister if you cannot walk.”

She couldn’t argue with his reasoning. If Ashrill was in danger… there was little she could do, and treading forwards in her current state wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors.

_Focus on what you can do._

Riwyn came to a halt, kneeling down against a large elm tree, allowing the trunk to protect her from the elements. She gathered several small branches before digging a pit into the snow to collect them.

Lowering her bag to the ground, she searched for flint and steel, cursing quietly under her breath when she found none. She had packed in such a rush she had forgotten to grab even the most bare of essentials. _How foolish._ _Add it to the list of mistakes._

“Allow me.”

Solas joined her, raising his hand above the pile of sticks and twigs. His lips parted at his murmured a spell’s incantation. When his words finished, flame trickled from his hand, coating the kindling below and lighting the branches. It was only a matter of seconds before they had a fire large enough to warm the pair of them.

She gave him a hesitant smile of thanks before retrieving a few slices of cured meat. “Here,” she offered.

He gave a curt nod, curling up with his back to the tree, eyes on the fire. He took a bite before speaking, “Tell me of your sister.”

Riwyn crinkled her nose. “What would you like to know?” He was trying to take her mind off of the situation, she understood. While speaking of Ashrill made her worry more, she couldn’t deny the fact that she felt some relief as well.

“What does she look like? Is she younger than you?”

“She is younger, yes. By a few years. Her hair is darker and curlier than mine. Eyes brighter. She also has a better sense of humor. I’m sure that is the first thing she’ll tell you when we meet her. She also loves tales of heroes and adventures. When we ran into Clan Sabrae, they told us stories of the Hero of Ferelden. She was thrilled for weeks.”

“She and Varric will get along quite well then. I am certain she would have many questions for him about the Champion of Kirkwall.”

Riwyn smiled. “Probably.”

“Is she skilled in the sword as you are?”

“No. She actually is a master of the bow. When we would go hunting, she could catch a rabbit through the trees at several meters away. She has always had a knack for archery even before we were with the Clan.”

That caught Solas’ attention. He arched a brow. “ _Before_ you were with the Clan? I thought you had always been with them?” The statement was phrased as a question, a curiosity oozing into his tone.

“We grew up in Denerim, around the time the Fifth Blight was happening. We fled when darkspawn overran the city.” Her attention focused on her boots then, head turned down.

“And your parents? You did not mention them.”

“No, I didn’t.” _And please, if you know what is good for you, you won’t ask._

Solas was adept at conversation and caught on. “I see. Well, if her precision with the bow is as good as you make it sound, I am certain she is doing just fine out there.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His gaze fell to her, brimming with reassurance. “We _will_ find her, Riwyn.”

She met it, her own eyes filled to bursting with anxiety and a fear she dare not speak of. “I’m not worried about whether or not we will find her. It’s the state she will be in that concerns me.”

“Have faith. We will get to her in time. However, you need rest. Sleep for a moment, I’ll take watch.”

Riwyn frowned in the slightest. “I can take the first-“

“Riwyn,” his voice was chastising. “I will not turn you into an ice cube, I will not bury you under a mound of dirt. I am not asking you to trust me, I am asking you to believe that I have your best interests at heart. I am a mage, but I am also your _companion_. And to some reach, your _friend_. I would never harm you. I swear it.”

“I know… I just…” Her mind flashed to the Tevinter mages, to their cruel smiles… she could still smell the burning bodies, hear the cries of her fellow elves as they were carted away, as they were sold into slavery.

“Old habits die hard?”

“Something like that.” But Solas… he was different. He warmed her when she was cold. He protected her from bandit knives and arrowheads. He comforted her when she doubted herself. And… he was here now, helping her. “Okay, I’ll rest. But wake me at dawn so you can sleep before we head out again. Promise.”

“Promise.”  

Riwyn nestled against the base of the elm, casting her eyes towards the landscape once more. Sleep danced at the edges of her vision. Her head felt heavy, her shoulders slumped. No, she couldn’t continue, not like this. Solas was right. Of course he was. He was a healer after all… Perhaps… Perhaps he wasn’t so bad.

_I’m coming, Ashrill. Just hold on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait. For those of you who don't know, my past week was hell. Big family problems. It made it so I couldn't write until yesterday. I chugged out a one-shot for my Broken Steel (Fallout 4 fic) yesterday and I'm racing against the clock to get this sucker out.  
> Hopefully this weekend we should have a Broken Steel Main Story chapter uploaded. Again, sorry for the wait. Thank you for understanding. <3


	7. The Cavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas offers a solution Riwyn isn't thrilled with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow-roll here guys, and the shorter update.

Gentle hands gripped her shoulders and gave a tender shake, the action was ginger in nature but held a sense of urgency to it.

“Herald, it is time to go,” Solas pressed.

Riwyn blinked her sleep-laden eyes open, lids heavy with exhaustion complied with her will. “How long was I out?” She couldn’t hide the trepidation in her tone. Guilt already ate away at her for stalling the search, if she had been asleep for too long…

“Only a handful of hours. But we should really press on while the storm is slowed.”

Her head bobbed in agreement as she allowed the mage to assist her to her feet. The sun still kissed the land of Thedas, causing the snow to sparkle and shine. Small flurries of snow danced in the light breeze but didn’t careen into the two elves like they had when the journey began. The air felt refreshing against her skin, as if it promised a better future, whispering its sweet nothings as it glided past her pointed ears. The woods smelled of pine, of the remaining smoke form their fire. It was relatively calm.

For now.

They two spoke very little as they stamped out the fire and gathered their belongings. Within a matter of minutes they were out again… braving the trek north, further from Haven. And further from her duties as the Herald of Andraste. Riwyn’s face pinched with doubt, her teeth working on her lower lip as she readjusted the pack on her back. She had failed everyone there by leaving, and thus far she was failing Ashrill by not locating her. Though Solas had begged to differ, she knew she was at fault. And the longer they were gone, the higher the tensions at Haven would raise. The more the refugees there would be at risk… the more tears in the veil would open. And she wasn’t there to close them. Eventually-

“I can practically feel the tension wafting off of you,” Solas commented from ahead of her, peering over his shoulder to meet her gaze.

“Sorry, I’ll try to… _waft_ … less,” she grumbled.

“Or, we could discuss the cause of your unease.”

“I appreciate the offer but-“

The air misted in front of his parted lips as he exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Riwyn,” he chided. “Stop berating yourself. We _will_ find her.”

She snorted, eyes rolling with little humor. “Oh? And how do you suggest we do that?” she scoffed. What progress had they made so far that would provide reason to his words? None. The answer was none. “Want to wave your fingers and make her poof into existence for me?” Her words were coated with bitter anger… though not at the man.

He leveled a scowl with her. “That’s outside my abilities.”

“Fantastic. Great. Thanks then. Unless you have a better idea, leave me alone,” she moved to trudge ahead, booted feet kicking up snow as she nudged past the elf.

Solas paused, hesitating in his steps, allowing her to go a short distance before speaking. “Actually… Now that you mention it…” His head shook. “I cannot believe I did not think of this sooner.” He jogged to match her pace. “We can ask the spirits.”

Riwyn instantly cringed, nose crinkling; her mind disregarding the possibility in his offer.

“I know you are not thrilled with the concept of relying on the Fade for assistance.”

“For once we agree on something,” she muttered, crossing her arms defiantly in front of her chest as she halted once more.

“ _But_ ,” he continued. “You could enter the Fade with your mind, with my help. There we could commune with the spirits to see if they have seen your sister.”

“Because they would be _so willing_ to come to our aid, right?”

“Correct.”

“And at what price would that be?” Nothing was free, especially where demons were concerned.

“I have told you, there are benevolent spirits. Not just the ones you were told of in those story books.”

“Excuse me for not jumping on the Fade theory when every ‘spirit’ we have run into has wanted us dead,” she countered.

“Those were corrupt entities.”

“I don’t really care _what_ they were. I’m not doing this.” This was ridiculous, to even propose such… It made her skin crawl.

Solas’ mouth curled into a half-hearted grin, his expression unreadable. “Apologies, I did not realize you had another solution to our problem. This option will allow us to find your sister within a matter of minutes thus allowing you to return to Haven quicker than if we were to just continue the search on our own.”

Her lips parted though no words came out. He... had a point… _again_. And though she did not want to openly admit it, she had no other alternative. Her only plan so far had been to retrace her steps. While that offered them a good start, they were at a loss as to where to go next. Ashrill could be quite literally anywhere.

“Fine,” she bit out. “But I don’t like it.”

“Noted.”

“How do we do this?” her tone implied that she wanted this ritual over and done with as quickly as possible. The mere thought of voluntarily entering the Fade, even if it was just with her mind, made her stomach pitch forwards and her gut squeeze with discomfort. This was wrong…

Solas guided her over to a patch of trees along the edge of a cavern wall. “I will put up some protective wards and then we can begin. Take a seat there and clear you mind.”

_Right, because that is going to easy to do right now_. But she did as instructed, crossing her legs as she sat and folding her hands in front of her. Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing. _I can do this, I have to do this._

She felt him sit opposite of her, hands finding hers to grasp lightly. Her gut reaction was to cringe away from his touch but she swallowed her instincts. She had to comply for this to work. “Is your mind clear?”

“As clear as mud water,” she replied.

“I know this is going to be difficult for you. But, please, trust me.”

“I’m trying.”

“That is all I ask.” Solas inhaled deeply, shifting his weight in the slightest to get comfortable. “I will be the one truly entering the Fade. You will serve as a conduit. Since you are connected to Ashrill, your mind and hers have mingled and you share several common traits. The spirits will be able to sense these and utilize them to help us locate her. If they are successful, you should get glimpses of images. These images will guide us to where she is. Does that make sense?”

A chill fled up her spine, and she wasn’t entirely certain if it was due to the minor chill in the air or the thought of going through with Solas’ plan. A conduit for spirits? Could they meddle with her thoughts? Could they see her deepest desires? She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

As his incantation began, her heart rate quickened.  This was wrong. This was so completely and utterly _wrong_. Asking demons for aid, practically begging; it made her feel filthy, disgusting, as if she hadn’t bathed in weeks… But… there was also a glimmer of hope, twirling away behind the other emotions. If this worked they would be closer to Ashrill. If this worked they would be one step closer to bringing her home where she belonged.

_If_.

_Clear your mind_ , Riwyn reminded herself. _Focus and pay attention._

She became acutely aware of a mild tugging sensation on the back of her head, right where her skull connected her neck. She gasped, fingers moving to touch the spot only to find nothing there. No… this was…

“I am attempting to make connection,” Solas explained, his lips barely moving as he spoke, brows relaxed and jaw set in concentration. “Relax.”

_Easy for you to say, you’ve done this magical adventure stuff before_ … Riwyn squeezed her eyes shut once more, focusing on the way the snowflakes felt as they caressed her hands and face, on the way the wind played through her hair, on the way the animals scurried through the underbrush and drifts around them.

And then the tugging was gone.

“Is it working?” she whispered.

“I need quiet, Herald. Please.”

Not really an answer but she wasn’t in a position to argue.

She wasn’t sure how long the quiet stretched… seconds, minutes, hours. Nothing but the forest around her to listen to, to pay attention to. Once in a while she could feel Solas tense beside her, his muscles stretched taut only to relax a breath later. What was he seeing? What was going on just out of her realm of understanding? Though she would never voice it, a small part of her yearned to glimpse the things he witnessed. Her instinct knew that wonder would be the death of her, that communing with the unknown was a sure fire way to enter a quick grave… but she couldn’t calm her curiosity.

But her patience was wearing thing. “Solas, how much lo-“

She never finished the sentence. Images flooded her mind, jarred her conscious, and sent her reeling.

Elms and oaks, shrouded in moonlight and shadow. The wind biting against soft skin. Heart hammering in her ears. Breath uncontrolled, harsh against her throat. _Run_. Something was chasing her. _Faster_ … She needed to run faster. _Not moving quick enough_.

_Find refuge._

Ahead, a cave of sorts. Had to get there. Had to reach it. Her dirt crusted fingers clung to the bow at her side, gripping the wooden weapon for dear life. It couldn’t protect her.., not against the _thing_ that hurtled after her. Her arrows were useless.

She sprinted into the mouth of the tunnel. Her hands slipped on the cavern walls, bloodying themselves as the flesh on her palms split open. A stifled cry of agony, feet unsteady and unsure below her. _Hide. Have to hide. Run._ Deeper into the cave she fled. Eyes darting rapidly from side to side, trying to find a way out, trying to find somewhere safe. _Worthless. Trapped._

She tripped, her body slamming brutally against the jagged tunnel, a tight hiss of pain through clenched teeth. Struggling to her feet she continued on wards, the echoes of the beasts in pursuit behind her fueled her actions. Adrenaline spiked through her veins, giving her strength.

A light ahead caught her attention, guided her onwards. “Help!” she shouted but her voice was not her own. “Please! Somebody!” _Help me…_

She sped around the corner, hope beginning to light in her chest…

Only for it to be pulverized to dust.

Before her stood a Rift, spewing and sputtering, arcs of energy shooting out like lightning. A shriek tore itself from her lungs.

And the image disappeared from existence.

“NO!” Riwyn screamed, lunging forwards, breath coming out in tight pants.

Strong hands clasped her shoulders, gripping firmly to ground her to the here and now. Solas’ voice filtered into her reality, “Riwyn, the vision is not reality. You are safe now. Nothing is going to get you.”

But his words fell on unhearing ears.

Ashrill was in trouble.

Or _had_ been.

And they were literally _miles_ away.

“We need to leave. Now.” Her voice was like a brick wall, unyielding, unmoving. Her mind was made up. She stood rapidly, nerves wracking her mind, rendering her other senses nonexistent.

“Wait, you cannot just run out into the wilderness,” Solas tried to reason, mirroring her actions.

“I can. And will.”

She hoisted her sword onto her back, pausing only long enough to tuck her hair out of field of vision.

A hand clasped her elbow, drawing her attention if only for the fleetest of moments. “We still need to be safe. Running in, swords raised will not solve any of our problems,” Solas reminded.

“I’ll keep that tidbit of advice in mind when it’s your life that is hanging in the balance,” Riwyn sneered, brushing past his fingertips and starting out into the woods.

“Do you even know where you are blinding charging to?” he questioned, trailing behind her, staff at the ready, seeing as his companion was hell bent on launching herself into the wilderness without a care in the world.

The image in her mind, seared into her memory. She could picture the cavern, see every facet of the rock face as it gaped out against the tree line.

“I do.”

 


	8. The Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Riwyn find the cave from her vision.

“Herald, I firmly suggest you slow down.”

Solas’ wise words fell on deaf, uncaring ears. She had no desire to heed his warning, no matter how justified her mage companion was to speak the obvious. No, it did not matter what laid in wait for the pair in the cavern ahead of them, nothing was going to stand between her and her sister. Not Solas, not the biting blizzard winds, not the demons themselves. _Nothing_.

She had already wasted enough time.

_I’m coming, Ashrill. I promise._

Snowflakes plastered themselves against her cheeks, the smell of pine filled her senses and brought her some realm of comfort as she sped onwards, ignorant to all else. Her booted feet smacked against the earthen ground, snow crunched under her toes. Twigs snapped, leaves crumbled as she ran through the woods. Yes, she had lost enough precious time twiddling her thumbs. If she did not react now… she would not have any time left.

The guilt was eating away at her. The realization that she had done nothing as her sister suffered. It did not matter that she knew naught of what had befallen her sibling. It did not matter that she could have done nothing to prevent it. It _only_ mattered that she had not been there when Ashrill had needed her most, and that her life was now hanging in the balance because of that.

_I am so sorry, I hope you can find it in your heart to ever forgive me._

“Riwyn,” Solas chided, attempting again to gather a fragment of her attention as she raced ahead of him; dashing over elm roots and fallen oak branches, leaping over boulders, and launching off of moss covered rocks. Her footing was muddled, uneven, clumsy. Her mind was focused on the task at hand. Trying to convince her to diverge from her current objective would be as successful as having a full-fledged conversation with Sera about the Elvhen Pantheon. Arguably useless.

Instead he merely settled with trailing behind her as they closed the distance to the cavern mouth until her pace slowed and brought her to a complete halt, breath misting in front of her as she spoke. “This is it,” she explained, jabbing a pointed finger towards the entrance that rested flush with the cliff wall, evergreens adorning it on either side and shielding the cave from the harsh elements. “This is what I saw in my vision.” The image had been so clear, so focused… so _real_ … and now that she was nearing her destination, she couldn’t refute the shiver that fled up her spine.

If Keeper Deshanna knew what Riwyn had done to come to this spot, conversing with spirits and making deals with abominations… Best not to dwell on it. “This is for Ashrill,” she whispered.

She moved to grab her sword from her back, pulling it from its leather sheath. Adrenaline made every sound, every sight, every smell snap into bursting detail. She would cut a path if she had to.

_Please, please be alive._

“Do you remember what you saw inside?” Solas questioned, his voice breaking through her conscious as his fingers moved to grasp his staff, wielding it in front of him. If Riwyn hadn’t witnessed firsthand the power he was able to possess with such a thin piece of wood, she would laugh at his excuse of a weapon. But instead, she felt somewhat reassured by the sheer amount of magic she knew he held at his fingertips. For once, she was thankful to have him at her side. He was likely her best chance of getting her sister out of there alive. He was the only reason she had even made it this far. Perhaps she would thank him when they returned to Haven… _if_ they returned.

This was not going to be a simplistic task. They were going to meet resistance. They were going to have to fight to retrieve Ashrill.

_Just hold on a moment longer, sister._

Riwyn bit her bottom lip as her grip tightened on the hilt of her great sword at her side, the metal on the blade glinting green from the Breech that swirled overhead to the south. Even here they couldn’t escape it’s ever watchful eye. “She had been running from someone… or something. I’m not sure. She fled into the cave looking for safety… but…” The veil torn asunder, spewing otherworldly monsters, the terror that roared through Ashrill’s veins. “There is a Rift in there.”

She took a tentative step into the mouth of the cave, lowering her hood from her face in the process. The winds howled through the tunnels, sending flurries of snowflakes into the cavern, nestling along the crag walls and pointed stone. But aside from the storm that threatened to tear down Thedas with its frigid snow, nothing but silence greeted them. And the only thing visible was the flickering emerald light that danced at the end of the passageway amongst the absolute darkness.

“You mentioned that,” Solas said, gaze fixed on the path ahead as they entered. “We will have to close it before we look for your sister in earnest.”

A flash of fury made her suck in a hiss of a breath between her teeth. “Finding Ashrill is more important than closing another damned rift. She was gravely injured and-“

“All the more reason to seal it then. We do not know what will greet us in the inner sanctum, and I doubt that, whatever is there, will allow us to leave as easily as we have entered.”

Riwyn chewed on the inside of her cheek as she started forwards, leaving the protection of the entrance and outside world behind them. He had a valid point, as always. “Sorry, I’m. just…” She trailed off, eyes trained onto the Rift that was just barely visible behind the jarred rock.

_Ashrill, are you here? Where are you? Why haven’t you said anything? Did you not hear us?_

Why had they not heard anything yet? Their approach had not been a quiet one. Where was Ashrill? Was she even alive? Riwyn could not stop the endless assault of questions that riddled her mind. Would she know if Ashrill had perished? Would she be able to _feel_ it in her soul? Or had her sister died alone? Were they too late? If those beasts had brought any harm to her sister…

Solas rested a gentle hand on her arm, sensing the turmoil of emotions that engulfed his companion. “I understand. It is admirable that you care for your sister so much. But we need to be sensible about our next course of action. We need a plan. Unlike the other few Rifts you have closed, you do not have a full team at your disposal. Just you and me.” His voice was hushed, not wanting to alert whatever monstrosities within. Their footsteps were dulled, they bodies crouched as they snuck towards the light.

But stealth was not her favored strategy, and her patience was wearing thin. She had not raced here to slow down now. “I cannot just stand here and do nothing. I am going in there, closing that Rift, and finding my sister.”

 

“But what if-“

“What if nothing. Nothing is going to stop me. This Rift is no different from the others, and it will be destroyed just as the ones before it have been.” And she was not about to wait for his reply.

_I’m coming._

The sound of water dripping in the distance could be heard echoing off of the walls as she jumped ahead of him, the ground was slick with moisture as she stumbled towards her goal. The smell of mud and earth filled her nose, she could taste iron and dirt in the air.

But it all paled in comparison to the Rift, to the blinding green light as it grew brighter and brighter.

_I’m almost there, Ashrill._

The tunnel opened into a larger chamber, the entrance nearly a forgotten memory behind them, offering no refuge. _Where is she? Where is my sister?_

“Ashrill?” she called.

No torches in sconces bestowed them warmth, no fire lit the murky shadowed corners and recesses. The only source was the crackling, twisting Rift that loomed above their heads. Green tendrils of energy snapped and bent, laced across the air only to collide with stone, magic sputtered in a spattering of sparks. It moaned and screeched, groaned as if in indescribable agony as it buckled.

Just like Ashrill’s memory, just like her vision.

Except… except no monstrosities welcomed them.

And neither did Ashrill.

“Where… Where are the demons?” Solas asked, gaze flicking around the room.

But Riwyn was not listening. “Ashrill?” Again she cried her sister’s name.

“Herald, we-“

“Can’t you make a fire? I can’t see a thing! I need to find her.”

“I do not wish to risk it,” he responded. “We have already compromised our position and-“ he quieted, gaze fixated on a dark form resting in a crumpled heap just below the Rift’s center. “Riwyn, is that-?”

The body didn’t move but even from her position halfway across the room, Riwyn could make out the silver blonde hair, the curved Dalish bow at her side, the leather armor detailed with the insignia of Clan Lavellan.

“Ashrill!” Riwyn’s breath felt as if it caught in her throat, her heart hammered out an unsteady rhythm, her nerves were taut, muscles tense. “Rilly,” she cooed, crouching beside her sister, fingertips reaching to brush her sibling’s arm, to ease her awake. Ashrill’s chest rose and fell; though weak, she was alive. Just barely.

_We made it. Thank the Gods._

“Lavellan!” Solas warned…

But this time, it came too late.

The Rift pulsed as energy reverberated outwards from the torn veil and into the realm of Thedas. Snaps of light littered themselves about the chamber, discharging forth all manner of monstrosities. Terrors, wraiths, and shades alike twisted in their spot, glinting eyes sparkling in the green glow.

And they were ready to fight.

One second there was complete and utter silence. No one breathed, no one dare move a fraction of an inch. Solas tensed where he stood, Riwyn’s fingers curled tighter around her sister’s arm.

The next, the air was alive with magic, with an unknown force Riwyn couldn’t even begin to fathom, and whether it came from the monstrosities or from Solas she was uncertain, and she truly did not have the mind space to contemplate it. _Get her out of here, it’s not safe_.

Turning her back to the enemies as they launched into action, she stared down at Ashrill. _I have to carry her, I don’t have another option. Damn the Rift. She is so much more important._

An all-consuming burning sensation shattered her senses, made her lips part in surprise, eyes widen. Her back arched as she slumped away from the cause, leaning heavily over her sibling. She cried out as the pain roared to life, scorching and sizzling at her armor and tender muscle underneath. Her blade had been forgotten at the entrance to the inner sanctum, out of reach and useless to her.

“Grab Ashrill!” Solas demanded. “I will cover you.”

Doing as instructed, Riwyn scooped Ashrill’s unconscious form against her chest. She could make out the crackle of electricity before it soared towards a Shade that loomed over her, talons at the ready, the demon screeching an ear piercing howl in return. It jerked and wailed, clawed hands gripping and ripping at its own flesh, desperately trying to rid itself of the dancing magic to no avail.

Riwyn swallowed hard. If he had acted a second later, she would have torn asunder. Had the beast managed to get another swing at her…

“MOVE!” she heard Solas order her as the Mage took a step further into the room, attempting to take the attention off of her. She felt his soothing barrier wash over her skin, felt the way the air tickled her arms and face, providing her a thin shield of protection between the two girls and the enemies. It wouldn’t last long.

Reassuring herself that her hold on Ashrill was firm, she pivoted on her feet and started for the exit. She had to bob and weave around Solas’ attacks, fire and ice careening past her in a mad dash to slow the abominations that were on her heels. The ground was unfamiliar, uneven, but she kept her balance as she ducked behind Solas. His staff swirled with expertise, magic ripping from the ends as he slammed the tip against the stone and rubble.

She paused to grab the great sword, focus on the mouth of the cave.

“We cannot outrun them.”

He was right. They knew little of where they were and the closest village was a half a day’s journey away. However, they were already weak, winded, wounded… They would not survive long, not against this threat.

“Well, we cannot exactly fight them either.”

Solas raised his hands, fingertips glowing for a brief moment as he placed a barrier in the air before him, the demons slashing out at the invisible wall. Their snarls sent a wave of fright down her throat, made her heart accelerate, body shudder. Without Cassandra’s shield at her side, she felt weaker; without Varric’s wise remarks to put her at ease, she felt terrified beyond imaginable.

Though Solas wielded magic, it was not enough.

“Then what do you suggest?” he hissed, arms trembling from the stress of maintaining the buffer.

“I can close the Rift.”

“There’s too many of them,” she could hear the hesitation in his voice. “The mental strain you will have to endure to seal it with so many enemies still active-“

“Worth the risk. Either way we die, I may as well attempt to evade Fate, right?”

His lip thinned into a line but he gave a curt nod.

Lowering Ashrill so her weight was supported on Riwyn’s right flank, Riwyn reached outwards towards the center of the Rift. Though she had done this a handful of times prior to now, it still felt strange, abnormal, uncomfortable. It was like clutching at undetectable strands of string, intertwining them around her very being, and anchoring them through the palm of her hand.

It felt like reaching into a waking nightmare.

White hot agony ripped up her arm, obliterating all other senses as it shredded through her skin. Her jaw clenched, lips curled, eyes squeezed shut. She heard their taunts, their threats, their coos of wealth and riches. Their attempts at deterring her from her goal, speaking in her mind. They bombarded her, overloaded her, suffocated. Never before had she had to withstand so many of them, so many bargains and pleas. _This is for Ashrill…_

_‘I can get you back to your clan…’_

_‘I can make this all go away…’_

_‘I can show you pleasure, ravish you in gold…’_

_‘You don’t really want to be the Herald of Andraste, do you?’_

_Go away, leave me alone._

_‘Just let go, lower your hand…’_

_‘How long do you plan to keep this up?’_

_‘You are nothing, you are a pitiful little creature.’_

_‘Who are you to try and deny us?’_

_This is for Ashrill…_

_‘Oh, you foolish, girl!’_

_‘You will rue this day!’_

_Just a little longer._

The voices grew quiet, but only so they could pick and pry, tug at the back of her mind. She felt their little nails dig into her conscious, their greedy eyes peer at her memories and thoughts. Heard them chuckle, laugh, sputter.

She could feel it though, feel the Rift weakening, sensed their panic as they realized that soon they would be no more.

“Lavellan!” Solas’ alarmed voice cut through the fog.

_‘What do you think you are doing?’_

_‘You don’t honestly think you can keep this up, do you?’_

_‘Your body is not strong enough for this!’_

“Leave me alone!” she screamed, fingers curling around the ‘strands’ as they laced into her palm, only to yank her arm backwards. She heard the Rift explode, felt the heat as it washed over her flesh… listened as the demons shrieked, as they souls were eradicated to ash.

She knew she dropped Ashrill, she felt her booted feet fumble for the ground beneath them. Gentle hands grabbed her, her face nestled into something warm…

But all she could hear was the rush of wind, the roar of thunder.

Her eye lids were too heavy to open, her limbs too weak to hold her up.

And the world of Thedas crumbled away.


End file.
